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THE SIN OF ST. HULDA 



OR 



LOVE AND FAITH 



AN ORIGINAL PLAY IN FOUR ACTS 



BY 

G. STUART OGILVIE ^- 






it- 

" And faith, 
Creating what it feigned." 

— Shelley. 



RAHWAY, N. J. 

THE MERSHON CO. 
1896 



K 



-^r.^^ 






Copyright, 1896, 

BY 

G. STUART OGLIVIE. 



CHARACTERS. 



Heinric, Baron of Mindenburg. 

■Otho, Prince of Halberstadt. 

John Knipperdolling, Burgomaster of Mindenburg. 

KONRAD, the Printer, 

NiKAULAS, the Vintner, 

Hermann, the Bootmaker, )- Councillors of Mindenburg. 

Franz, the Butcher, | 

I 

Stortebeker, the Brewer, J 

Manteuffel, KnipperdoUing's brother-in-law. 

Joachim, 

Ulric, 

George, 

Ernst, 

Maximilian, Tapster at the " Golden Goose." 

Citizen, 

Soldiers, Burghers, Citizens, etc., etc. . 



>- Heinric's friends. 



Leisse, I 

V Courtesans. 
Marte, ) 

Friederike, Hostess of the " Golden Goose." 

St. Hulda. 

Burghers' Wives — Children, etc., etc. 



THE SIN OF ST. HULDA. 



ACT I. 

The Call. 

ACT II. 

A Protestant. 



ACT III. 

" Splendide Mendax." 

ACT IV. 

The Cry of Imperfection. 



Scene. — The Free Imperial City of Mindenburg, Germany. 

Time. — 1552. 

Six months are supposed to elapse between Acts I, and II. and 
eight weeks between Acts III. and IV. 



d 
1/. 



THE SIN OF ST. HULDA; 

OR, 

LOVE AND FAITH. 



ACT I. 



Scene I. Interior of " The Golden Goose.'' Evening. 
Large window, R. Arched entrance, R. U. E. Door, 
L. U. E. Fireplace and door L. Tables, chairs, 
benches, etc. Some Villagers, Soldiers, and 
Travellers discovered drinking. Max and Frieder- 
ike waiting on them. Laughter and clatter of tank- 
ards. 

Traveller [Rapping on table.'] What ho, there ! 
The score ! 

Max. At your service, sirs, at your service. 

[Goes to them. 

Enter a well-dressed Citizen, R. U. E. who crosses to 
Friederike. 

Stage begins to clear. 

Citizen. [Aside to Frieke.] Glaube. 

Frieke. [Curtseying, and signing to door, L. U. E.] 
You are late, sir. The brethren are all assembled. 

Cit. [Aside.'\ Does St. Hulda preach to-night ? 

Frieke. Ay, sir ; I hope to hear her myself, when 
we have closed the house. 



2 LOVE AND FAITH. [act i, 

Cit. Have a care — our enemies are many. 

\_Exit, L. U. E. Stage clears. Exeunt Sol- 
diers last, laughing and singing, R. U. E.. 

Stage clears, leaving Max and Frieke. 

Max. \Coining down.~\ Frieke ! 

Frieke. Well ? 

Max. Did you hear what the soldiers were saying? 

Frieke. Yes. They were agreeing I was the 
comeliest wench they'd seen since the wars ! 

Max. \Furious?\ Who said that? Which of 'em 
— eh ? Which of 'em ? 

Frieke. Max, you're jealous. 

Max. Jealous! No — but all soldiers are goats. 

Frieke. Hush ! You were a soldier yourself once^ 
Max, but what else were they saying ? 

Max. That Prince Otho is on the road to Halle 
to arrest St. Hulda. 

Frieke. Well, let him go to Halle, he'll not find 
her there. 

Max. But Mindenburg is on his line of march — 
if he were to call here, Frieke, what should we do ? 

Frieke. Nothing. 

Max. [Pointing to door, L. U. E.] But St. Hulda? 

Frieke. Hold your tongue, jay bird, hold your 
tongue that's all you've got to do. \Goes L. U. 
E.] Leave the rest to me. 

Max. Ah! \_Scratches his head.'] A widow thinks 
she knows everything, but she don't. 

[Knock off R. U. E. 

Frieke. [Starting.'] What's that ? 

[Huns down to Max. 

Max. [Calmly.] Nothing. 

[Knock repeated. 

Frieke. [Catching his arm.] Oh, Max — if it 
should be Otho, what shall we do ? 

Max. Why, hold our tongues, to be sure. 

[Strolls slowly up, L. U. E. 
[Kttock repeated. 



SCENE I.] LOVE AND FAITH. 3 

Frieke. I can't — I can't — I want to scream. 

[Max opens door. 

Enter Knipperdolling and Stortebeker. 

Knip. Why close your doors so early, pretty 
mouse ? 

Frieke. \Curtseying?\ So please you, sir. 

Stort. "Your Worship," dame, "Your Worship." 
Master Knipperdolling has been elected Burgo- 
master. 

Frieke. Oh ! {Curtseying^ Your Worship, par- 
don, your Worship. 

K^iip. {Chucking her under the chin.'] There's no 
offence, my pretty one. {To Max.] A bottle of 
Johannisberg. {Exit Max, L. 

We have friends that follow us and would have 
supper. 

Frieke. Supper, your Worship ? It grows late. 

Knip. And will be later yet before we part, for 
we are frolicsome, my mouse. A little fellowship, 
a little feasting. Oh! I can be Belshazzar an I 
choose — a little " clink-clink," and man becomes 
a brother, eh, Stortebeker? But what for supper? 

Stort. Something light and luring. 

Enter Max with wine. 

Knip. A sucking pig, eh ? with an onion in his 
belly and cherries in his mouth — eh ? Preserved 
cherries, mouse — dip 'em in treacle and temper 'em 
with brandy for the stomach's sake, eh? 

Stort. A dream — a dream ! 

Max. {Aside.] Nightmare, I hope! 

Frieke. {Curtseying?}^ I'll do my best, your Wor- 
ship. 

Knip. {Patting her cheeky Mouse ! 

[Max sets wine on table abruptly. 

Frieke. {Beckoning Max.] They will be here all 
night. We must warn the brethren ! 



4 LOVE AND FAITH. [ACT i. 

Max. {Glancing at Knip.] Hog's flesh ! 

{Exeunt Frieke and M Ay., L. 

Knip. {Helping wim.l Stortebeker, " Our- 
selves ! " God bless us ! 

SUrt. Amen ! You've done it at last, your 
Worship ! 

Knip. A little burrowing, a little policy. - Oh ! I 
can be a politician an I choose — a little " Hum, 
hum," and here I am, the Burgomaster. 

Stort. Thanks to your good brother-in-law. 

Knip. {With sudden fervor.'] If I could commit 
Manteuff'el to six months' imprisonment I would 
die happy, 

Stort. He never forgave you for marrying his 
sister. 

Knip. Ha, ha ! a little romance — a little rhym- 
ing. Oh ! I can come the poet an I choose — a 
little " tra-la-la," — and the widow was mine. 

Stort. And the finest wool-trade in Mindenburg 
to boot. 

Knip. No, Stortebeker, no. Manteuffel manages 
that. It's "Brother, what o' the market?" and 
" Brother, what o' the books ? " and " Brother, what 
o' the balance ? " And if I need a groschen I have 
to go to " Brother " for it ; /, the Burgomaster of 
Mindenburg ! 

Stort. Ah, but you owe that honour to him. 

Knip. Wormwood ! wormwood ! I shall be his 
creature in the Rathhaus too. I dare not offend 
him and his party. 

Stort. The Purity Party ! 

Knip. Oh ! if I could commit Manteuffel for 

Stort. Hush ! Here come the others ! 

Enter Konrad, Nikolaus, and Franz, R. U. E. 

Knip. Welcome, gentlemen, welcome ! Be 
seated. Supper is on the way. A little sucking 



SCENE I.] LOVE AND FAITH. 5 

pig with an onion in its belly and cherries in its 
mouth — will't suit the occasion? 

\Ge rural and greedy approval from Burghers, 
ivho sit at the table. 

Nik. That was a fine speech of yours from the 
chair, Burgomaster. 

Knip. A little eloquence, a little fire. Oh ! I can 
be a Cicero an I choose — a little " Phew," and the 
thing is done. 

Nik. What were your words, " Peace and purity, 
but no Protestors here ?" That was a fine thing to 
say. 

Knip. Politic, eh ? Profound, eh ? 

Nik. Ay, indeed, for Maurice of Saxony has 
imprisoned his Protestant father-in-law. 

Knip. [Aside.] Would it had been my Catholic 
brother-in-law. 

Nik. And declared for Order and Orthodoxy. 

Franz. They say the Emperor is using his Spanish 
soldiers to stamp out heresy in Germany. 

Nik. With Prince Otho at their head. 

Knip. Ah ! I remember when the Prince was 
only Earl the Bastard, eating the bread of charity 
at the late Baron's Schloss. 

Nik. And now he is the Emperor's own favorite, 
a hard man, a hard and cruel man. 

Franz. And it will go hard with the Protesters, or 
I'm no butcher. 

Nik. Well, well, we may have 'em here yet. 

Knip. Never! A little firmness, a little force. 
Oh ! I can be the Draco an I choose — a little 
^' Ugh, ugh," and the matter's settled. 

Nik. I don't know — St. Hulda is at Halle. 

Franz. And who is St. Hulda? 

Knip. A dangerous, disturbing, disordering Pro- 
tester. 

Her. The people worship her. 

Nik. But wherefore " St. Hulda " ? 



6 LOVE AND FAITH. [act i. 

Franz, /don't know — ask the bookman here. 

Kon. 'Tis an old German myth. Hulda was the 
Saxon Diana, the gentle, pure moon-maiden whose 
kingdom lay in children's hearts — and those she 
loved the most she gathered i' the bud, setting their 
little souls as stars around her silver throne. 

Franz. Oh, that's it, is it ? But what about sup- 
per, eh ? 

Enter Manteuffel, R.' U. E. 

Enter Frieke and Max with supper, L. 

Onines. Ha! ha! it comes! it comes! 

Ma7i. {Down R.] Brother John, good evening ! 

Knip. \In weak voice.^ Brother Manteuffel — Avel- 
come ! 

Man. Does my sweet sister know of this? 

Kjiip. No, brother, but she will. 

Man. Yes, verily, she shall. 

Knip. Wilt sit with us at supper? 

Man. These carnal joys are not for us, my 
brother. The Protester is knocking at our gates — 
he charges us with corruption, concupiscence, and 
unclean living. He calls for reformation. He is 
right ! We need reformation from within ! 

Franz. We've nothing within to reform yet. 

Man. What have we to do with belly-lures? 
Sausages, herrings, prunes, and sauerkraut ! Oh^ 
shame of Baal Peor ! Put them away, my brother,, 
put them away, 

Knip. {Weakly?^ Put them away ! 

[Frieke removes thetn. 

Ma?i. A sucking pig! Shall we who fight for 
purity pander to a sucking pig? Remove the 
beast ; it's unclean ! 

Knip. \Weakly.^ Remove the sucking pig. 

[Frieke removes it. 

Man. Let us not tarry ! Thy loving wife awaits 
thee, brother. 



SCENE I.] LOVE AND FAITH. 7 

Knip. My loving wife ! {Finishes glass?^ God 
bless her ! Let us go ! \All rise. 

Man. What, go you too, gentlemen? Ah, better 
so, better so ! Purity, gentlemen, purity! 

Franz. Good night all ! 

Man. Come, my brother, home. Ghostly com- 
fort waits us there. 

Knip. I yearn for it, I yearn ! 

{Exeunt Burghers. 

Frieke. {Clapping hands.'] Oh, merciful deliver- 
ance ! I thought they would be here till day-dawn ! 
Clear, Max, clear ! 

{Max clears and exits with things, L. 

Enter Knipperdolling stealthily. 

Knip. Send not the reckoning home. I'll call 
myself to-morrow. 

Frieke. {Smiling.'] I understand, your Worship. 

Knip. {Approaching her.] Fie ! fie ! You are a 
sprightly creature. 

Frieke. Oh, your Worship, you frighten me ! 

Knip. {Arm round waist.] Mouse ! The Burgo- 
master is your friend. 

Frieke. Can I trust your Worship ? 

Knip. {Kissing her.] Aslamaman — 

Enter Max, L. 

— and a magistrate, I say — I said Magistrate — I 
would fain be thy Protector. 

Man. {Off?^ Purity, gentlemen, purity ! 

Knip. Perdition ! {Exit, R. U. E. 

Max. {To her fiercely.] Why did you let him 
kiss you ? 

Frieke. Will not soap and water rectify the sin ? 

Max. I hate you, and I've done with you forever. 
I'll to the wars again, and not come back till I am 
dead and buried ! 



8 LOVE AND FAITH. [act i. 

Frieke. Yes, go, Max, go and leave me to fight for 
the Cause as best I may! We are harboring St. 
Hulda at the risk of our lives. If it were known 
that she is at this moment preaching to the 
Brethren in yonder loft, my house would be for- 
feited and I should be thrown into gaol. You had 
better go, and that speedily, before we are 
arrested ! 

Max. Oh, call me a coward ! Why did you let 
him kiss you ? 

Frieke. How could I help it — an old man too ! 

Max. They are the worst ! 

Frieke. Bald-headed ! 

Max. A mark of the beast ! 

Frieke. And the priest. Max. 

Max. And last week I saw the Baron Heinric 
kiss you. 

Frieke. {Indignantly^ For the good of the house 
— and he's only a boy ! 

Max. A boy ! I believe he was a man before he 
cut his teeth! A wine-bibbing, wench-loving, law- 
breaking rake-helly, who respects neither God nor 
woman. Boy indeed ! But they're all boys or old 
men with you. 

Frieke. Yes — all except one. Oh, Maximilian, 
you've the heart of a lion, but the head of a sheep 
— sit down and be sane. 

{She sits, and Max sits by her and tries to take her 
hand. 
I said be sane ! Now, Hulda 

Max. St. Hulda! Ah, God bless her! Audit 
was you who brought her here ! Where did you 
meet her, Frieke ? 

Frieke. Oh, long before I knew you or Minden- 
burg. Eight years ago, come Christmas time, I 
found her wandering in the snow and brought her 
unto Luther. Poor child, poor child ! a girl in 
years, a woman in her suffering. 



SCENE I.] LOVE AND FAITH. 9 

Max. Suffering? What do you mean, Frieke ? 

Frieke. \_Conftised,'\ Mean? How? Why, her 
father and her brother's were leaders of the Peas- 
ants' Secret League, They were betrayed by 
treachery, and hung before her eyes. But that's a 
secret. Max — you'll never breathe it to a soul ? 

Max. I'd slit my tongue before I said a word 
that might cause Hulda pain. 

Frieke. The past is done with, but what about 
the future ? Otho hunts for her hard by, and the 
new Burgomaster threatens here. 

Max. Bide events, bide events! St. Hulda — 
Heaven bless her ! — hasn't been amongst us a week 
yet, and already the common folk are hers to a man. 
Before long we'll have the Councillors on our side,, 
and maybe the Burgomaster too. 

Frieke. [ Touching her cheek.~\ By this same token. 
Max. 

Max. \_Grimly.'] And the spendthrift Baron 
Heinric, eh ? 

Frieke. \_Laughing.~\ I fear he's past salvation. 
But as for the others, who knows ? St. Hulda 
would tell us to have faith, that is what she always 
preaches — it is the text of her sermon to-night. 
Let us go in and hear her. [^Up L. U. E.] But 
mind, I will not have you hold my hand — till 
sermon time — it is disturbing. Come! 

\^Loud knocks and horn off R. U. E. Frieke runs 
to and Max clings to his arm. 

What's that ? Max ! Max ! 'Tis Otho ! 

\Knocks repeated. Max opens the door, and enter 
Ernst, blowing horn, and followed by Ulric 

Ernst. Supper, supper for six. 

Ulric. The Baron Heinric has been wounded by 
a bear, and will rest awhile on his way to the 
Schloss. Quick! here he comes — wine and supper, 
quick! S^Exit Max. 



lo LOVE AND FAITH. [act i. 



Enter Heinric, carried sedan chair-wise, by Joachim 
and Georg. The friends whoop and cheer noisily. 

Hein. Nay, set me down, good friends, for I can 
walk. I am but bruised, not broken ; the only- 
plaster that I need is supper, and that badly ! 
{^Sees Frieke.] Ha ! ha ! my little mother. 

Frieke. \To him, curtseying^ Oh, my lord ! you 
are not hurt ? 

Hein. Just enough for the gossip, but not enough 
for the grave-digger, little mother. How fares it 
with you ? 

Frieke. Well, so please my lord. 

Enter Max with wine. 

Hein. But still wearing of the weeds! {Takes 
wine from Max.] Here's to a new true man for 
thee ! 

Frieke. Once bit, twice shy, my lord. 

Hein. Twice kissed, thrice bold, little mother! 
\Kisses her ; bus. for MAX.] And now set us a supper 
in your cosy closet. 

Frieke. Oh, my lord, I fear our larder, for we did 
not look for noble company, and the hour is late. 

Hein. Tut, tut, little mother! we bring the best 
of sauce — a hunter's appetite. Away ! 

\_Exeunt Max and Frieke. 

Ulric. {Producing dice.l And while we wait, I'll 
have one throw with thee. 

Hein. I'm with thee, Ulric. {They begin to play. 

Enter Liese and Marte, R. U. E., laughing and 
chattering. 

Ernst. {Suddenly rousing?^ Ha, ha, the little 
angels ! 



SCENE I.] LOVE AND FAITH. ii 

Ulric. [Aside, disgusted^ Bah ! These women ! 
Love and hazard never did agree ! 
Hein. Liese ! Marte ! 

Liese. La! But we heard you were a-dying ! 

[Stands by him. 
Heiti. [Shakes dice and throws laughingly?^ Not 
yet! [Wins.'l Liese, you bring me luck ! 

Ernst. [Solemnly beckoning to Marte.] Come ! 

[Marte sits by Ernst. 
Liese. [Laughing?^ I always bring my true love 
luck! [Caresses him. 

[ They play in silence. 
They are cheating you, Heinric ; Ulric lost fifty 
crowns to your last throw. 

Ulric. Do not interrupt the game, baggage ! it 
confuses me. Whose is the throw? 

[ They play again in silence. 
Liese. Marte, that crown was mine. 
Marte. It was my stake. 

Enter Otho, R. U. E., with Officer and two Soldiers 
unobserved. He signs to them to be silent and stands 
watching the gamblers in the red firelight. 

Liese. I put it there ! 
Marte. You lie — it's mine ! 
Liese. [Passional ely.~\ Give it me ! 
Marte. I won't ! 

Liese. Cheat, cheat, I'll have it ! [Dashes at her?\ 
[Confusion. Men rise and restrain them. 
Hein. Girls, girls, you are for love, not war! 

Marte. She called me^ 

Liese. She stole my 

Hein. Peace, peace ! 
Otho. You are gay to-night. 
Hein. Karl ! 

Ulric. Prince Otho ! ' [All rise — panse. 

Hein. [Confused.'] Your Highness ! I forgot, 
sir 



12 LOVE AND FAITH. [act i. 

Otho. {Taking his hand?t^ No, you only remem- 
bered your sometime playfellow? 

[ They bring a chair forward. Otho sits and waves 
Heinric, C, to chair beside him j others standi 

Ulric. {Fawning^ Welcome once more to Min- 
denburg, your Highness. When we hear from time 
to time of your Highness's illustrious exploits and 
splendid career, we are very proud to think your 
happy childhood was spent within our gates, though 
doubtless your Highness forgets us now. 

Otho. \prily^ I remember you, Count Ulric,.. 
very well. Have you a kerchief? Ah! perfumed, 
and of lace. You were always dainty, Count. I 
remember once at the full board you made a pretty 
jest at my coarse linen. 'Twas clean and neatly 
mended, and at the time I thought the laugh unjust \ 

Ulric. {Confused?^ I — I — forget the incident, 
your Highness. 

Otho. Ah ! I do not. Karl the Bastard never 
forgets — his friends. But see, my mud-stained 
boots disgrace this gentle company. I pray you 
look to it. 

Ulric. I'll go fetch a clout, sir. 

Otho. {Giving kerchief back?^ I never use coarse 
linen now ; pray you take this. {He stretches out 
his boot. Ulric kneels and ivipes it and throws the 
kerchief away r[ Nay, Count, pick it up; pick it up 
and wear it as a keepsake of a prince's memory ! 
{To Heinric.^ But tell me of yourself. It was 
only the news of your accident that stopped me 
on my march to Halle. I heard that you were 
badly hurt 

Hein. A bruise, sir — a mere bruise. But you 
must see the boar — the biggest ever brought to 
Mindenburg. We'll have him shown at supper, sir, 
if you will honor us.' 

Otho. Nay, Heinric, I must on to Halle. 

Hein. So urgent, sir? 



SCENE I.] LOVE AND FAITH. 13 

Otho. On the Emperor's own quest. I hope ere 
sunrise to have arrested the mad preacher, Hulda! 

Hein. Is she so dangerous? 

Otho. If I can but lay hands on her she'll trouble 
us no more! The Emperor has sworn to crush this 
damnable dissent throughout all Germany. 

Hein. We shall not trouble your Highness much 
at Mindenburg. 

Gents. {Together?^ No, no; we need no reforma- 
tion here ! 

Otho. {Drily^ So I see; yet, gentlemen, I would 
not boast ! This restless fever of reform is as catch- 
'"^^ as the plague, and takes strange victims. Know 
you Lddy Bertha of Berlin? S^All laugh. 

Hein. Who did not know her, sir? First in the 
field, fairest at the Court, boldest at the dice, free 
with her favours as the summer sun, the maddest, 
merriest, most daring dame in Saxony. 

Otho. [Dri/j/.'] Ay, she has been bitten ! 

Gents. What ? 

Hein. A Reformer ? 

Otho. Worse — reformed ! A pervert of St. Hulda ; 
and she's but one of thousands who have caught 
this itch of reformation and have found a "con- 
scious heart." 

Hein. Now,, may the good Lord keep that " con- 
scious heart " from our dear maids at Mindenburg 
when next we go a-Maying. 

Georg. Amen ! Amen ! 

Ernst. [Aside.l I have a conscious stomach 
which tells me it's supper time. 

Hein. [Latighing.l A woman with a " conscious 
heart " can be no friend to man ! What says your 
Highness ? 

Otho. If this derelict craft of love may speak, it 
has outgrown your welcome wench. I owe every- 
thing to this same " conscious heart." 

Hein. How so, sir? 



14 LOVE AND FAITH. [act i, 

Otho. You remember the pleasant plot which I 
unmasked ten years ago ? 

Hem. Well, sir, we seemed on the brink of 
another rising as bloody as that of '24. 

Otho. That discovery was the turning point in 
my career, for it brought me into the imperial 
presence. I was a twelve-month tracing out that 
plot, living amongst the peasants as Sigbert the 
Fowler, one of themselves. It was a strange life. 

Hein. But the conscious heart, sir? 

Otho. Ah, yes ! While staying close to Nurem- 
berg, I met a little peasant with a conscious hearty 
the sweetest, sauciest, most saintly little Protestant 
that ever prayed with tears against temptation, yet 
laughed to meet it at the lychgate after church. 
The old Eve was stronger than the new Evangel. 
I won that heart, and it was she who told me of 
the plot. 

Hein. Who was she, sir? 

Otho. The daughter of old Kunz, the ploughman,, 
leader of the Peasants' Secret League. Her name 
was Katchen. 

Hein. What became of her ? 

Otho. I often wonder. I would I knew ! After 
her father and her two brothers had been seized 
and — and put away, I sent for her. She had fled,, 
and we could find no trace of her. Poor Katchen ! 
\Rising^^ Gentlemen, a parting toast — to " Katchen 
of the Conscious Heart." 

Hein. [Aside.] Poor Katchen ! {All drink. 

Otho. Heinric, one word with you. Gentle- 
men, good-night ! 

[At a sign from Otho, Officers and Soldiers all 
exeunt^ bowing, except Otho and Heinric. 
Trust not these harpies and these harlots ! 

Hein. Sir, they are my friends. 

Otho. [Drily.] Ah ! I hear your fortune is much, 
pinched. 



SCENE I.] LOVE AND FAITH. i§ 

Hein. \LaiigJmig?^ Pinched, sir ! 'Tis squeezed to 
the last drop. 

OtJio. \Laying hand on him.^ I have never for- 
gotten you were good to me. 

Hein. No, no ! 1 loved you, Karl ! 

OtJio. Ay, you loved Karl the Bastard. You 
see that wound is healed, and I can show it with "a 
laugh ; but in those days it hurt, it hurt ! Mine 
was a cruel schooling, Heinric — the covert sneer, 
the contemptuous patronage, the supercilious 
charity of little men like Ulric and his provincial 
peers. It hardened me, it hardened. But you — you 
always treated " the Bastard " as your equal. 

Hein. No, Karl, as my superior. You knew the 
lure to tempt the freckled trout ; you knew the snare 
to lift the greedy pike ; you'd call the curlew, 
whistle plover from their circling flight ; you knew 
the otter's lair, the eagle's nest, the chamois' haunt 
— in all the mysteries of wood and water-ways 
you were my tutor and my king. 

Otho. {Laughs?^ And now, instead of birds and 
beasts and fishes, I'll teach you how to trap their 
master — man. 

Hein. [^Laughing.^ I was never a checkerman. 
In our winter-fireside games you always gave me a 
queen, and a beating ! 

Otho. We'll not play against each other ; we'll 
play against the world. Wilt come "with me to 
Court? 

Hein. To Court, Karl ? 

Otho. Ay, to Court. We'll climb Fame's ladder 
side by side. 

Hein. Give me time to think, sir. 

Otho. No, I will fetch 

You after Halle. You shall come with me. 
And serving me shall serve your own regard, 

\_Rises. 
Heinric, we stand in roaring times when men 



i6 LOVE AND FAITH. [act i. 

May carve their names across the Continents. 

Our Germany has quickened with new life, 

Her pangs come sharper with each hour ; 

None know what her fierce labour may bring forth, 

But at a nation's yearning time the wise 

Man plays the midwife to his own design. 

And mine is {Breaks off with a laugh. 

First to catch this saintly eel. 
Twice have my fingers closed on her to find 
That she is gone! But not again ! I know 
That's she at Halle ; if she breaks this way, 
Take her, good Heinric, take and hold her fast ! 

He in. {Laughing?^ 
Saints are not of my sort, but if she comes, 
I'll cleave to her with all the Devil's grip. 

Otho. Do, and your future is assured ! 

{Exit Otho, R. U. E. Heinric looks after 
him. 

Hein. A good friend and a grim enemy ! I would 
rather serve than cross you. Prince. Ho, Ulric, 
Georg ! 

Enter Ulric Ernst, Georg, Joachim, Liese, a«^ 
Marte, L. 

Drink to my reformation ; the Prince would make 
a courtier of me. 

Joac. Has he gone ? 

Liese. La, how he frightened me ! He looked as 
ugly as the lazar house ! 

Marte. And as cold as the grave ! 

Ulric. Bastard ! 

Hein. \Ciip in hand?\^ A full purse, a proud 
position. Farewell to this provincial poverty! 
Hail, Royal Patronage! Toast me, friends, my 
fortune's made. 

{All drink. Enter Max, L. He steals up towards 
door, L. U. E. 

Hi! Max! 



SCENE I.] LOVE AND FAITH. 17 

Max. \_Ttir Jiiiig co?if used. ~\ My lord! 

Hein. Why is not supper served ? 

Max. It is on the way, my lord, [Aside.'] I must 
warn the brethren ; if they raise the even song 
before we get these roysterers away, we are all lost. 

Enter Frieke, L. 

Frieke. My lord, the supper waits. 

[Applause and general laughter. 

Hem. Good news ! Come, girls, who'll queen the 
board ? 

Liese. {To him, R.] Me, me ! 

Marie. [To him, L.] Me, me ! 

Hein. Me, me ! Me, me! Judgment of Paris! 

But I'll take you both. Black Beauty and White 

Wickedness ! [Takes their hands.] To supper all ! 

[Hymn heard off. All pause. Max and Frieke 

look at one another j bus. 

Frieke. [Aside.] The hymn ! And Otho scarce 
beyond the yard. They'r^e lost. 

Hein. Friederi.ke, what is that ? 

Frieke. That ! What, my lord ? 

Hein. That ! 

Joac. 'Tis one of Luther's hymns. 

Georg. Reform has reached us e'en at Minden- 
burg. 

Ulrtc. [Pointing to D. L. U. E.] And they are 
there ! 

Hein. Friederike ! 

Ernst. [Catching up hunting horn.] I'll blow 
them such a trump they'll think it is the last ! 

Hein. No, no ! Grace before meat — let's join 
the Gospellers ! What say you, merry nuns and 
Bully acolytes ? 

[General laughter and assent. 

Frieke. My lord, my lord, these poor folk are in 
earnest. 



i8 LOVE AND FAITH. [act i. 

Hein. {^Laughing.'] Earnest, little mother! ear- 
nest ! So am I ! Are the Protestants to do all 
the protesting ? By Bacchus, no ! We'll protest 
against this gloomy righteousness, this conscious 
heart, this ghostly hypochondria ! We'll preach 
'em a sermon \Jiands on womeit] in black and 
white straight from the Book of Life, with old 
Ernst there as an awful illustration, the Death's 
Head of Debauch ! Come, boys, let's shame these 
murky moths with our gay butterflies ! Whoop ! 
[Sings.'] 

There's a pricket in the thicket, 

Rubbing velvet off his palms, 
Him we'll follow with a holloa, 

And the hunter's loud alarms ! 

[Dances off with the two wotneti, followed by 
the rest laughing and singing.. 
Frieke. We're lost, we're lost ! 

[Exeunt Frieke and M.ax, folloiving them. 
[Luther s hymn louder during dark change to Scene 
II. 



Scene II. Interior of a bare, whitewashed loft, with door 
and a few steps L., and a rude platfor^n C, on which 
St. Hulda is discovered, hmriediately behind her 
head, back C, is a bull's eye window, which gives the 
effect of an aureole round her head. In frofit and 
round her stands a motley crowd, some richly dressed, 
some in rags, raising Luther's hymn, the last bars of 
which cease as the lights go tip. 

Enter Heinric, Y,., followed by Frieke. The rest of the 
party peer in at the doorway. The congregation kneels 
as St. Hulda delivers the final benediction. 

St. Hulda. So peace go with you, and the stead- 
fastness 
And quiet exaltation born of Faith, 
Faith is Man's one necessity ; all else 



SCENE 2.] LOVE AND FAITH. 19 

A complement to that essential grace. 

For as a father to his growing son 

Shall suit advice to each development, 

So it may be God's messages are sent 

To march with human apprehensiveness, 

And the world sloughs its old belief to find 

An ampler creed beneath. Belief 

Is but the body of our thought, and mortal 

Faith is the soul, th' immortal lambent link 

Between Life's meaning and Death's mystery ; 

Words shall not fashion it nor works ensure. 

What man can tell his passion for his maid, 

What woman speak her yearnings for her babe? 

These things are felt, not phrased, and so with 

Faith, 
Faith is the Pharos of our pilgrim race, 
Lost on the plains of Darkness and Dismay. 
Be yours that light — a pin-point in the dark. 
But steadfast as a star it shall not set. 
Till o'er the beetling hill-tops which have reared 
Fixed limitations to man's finite reach. 
The sluice of Dawn be lifted, and the flood 
Of God's illumination palpitates 
Above us, in us, of us — and we know ! 
Dear Lord, I pray thee give Thy people Faith ! 

[A burst of mocking laughter from the party at the 
door, which Frieke hastily shuts in their faces. 
Heinric sta7ids transfixed. 

Frieke^ [Creeping to his elbow.'] My lord, you'll 
not betray us to the Prince? 

Hein. [With his eyes still on HULDA]. It is 

Frieke. St. Hulda ! 

CURTAIN. 
END OF ACT I. 



20 LOVE AND FAITH. [act IK 



ACT II. 

Six months are supposed to have elapsed. 

Scene : A room in the " Golden Goosey All siveet and 
fresh, but very simple. Bright summer morning. 
Long bow window, back looking into street. Door i?ita 
street, L. C. B. Doors into house, R, and R. U. E. 
Window, L. Table and chairs, R. Settee, L. Large 
oak chest, C. B, 

St. YixiiAiX discovered at spinning wheel. Frieke busying 
herself at oak chest and singing. 

Frieke's Song. 

A soldier grim from the war is home, 

And there's spring in the apple tree. 
A maiden laughs through the pink-lipped foam 

That is splashing the apple tree. 
In vain he seeks her heart to storm, 
She's hedged by blossoms white and warm, 
The flower must fall ere fruit shall form 
In the lap of the apple tree. 

Frieke. My heart is full of song-birds this bright 
morn 
And you are silent, sister. Why so sad ? 

[ To her affectionately. 
St. Hulda. My thoughts are with the snows of 
other days, 

What time you found me 

Frieke. Hush ! Put it away t 

Put it away, dear sister, it is past. 

St, H. Oh ! but this cank'ring sense of secrecy, 
Of flash pretence, is eating out my heart. 



SCENE I.] LOVE AND FAITH. 21 

It cripples me ! It quells, e'en when the word 

Wells up in glad conviction, and I feel 

My people's heart beat pulse for pulse with mine. 

Satan will touch my elbow, whispering, 

"Tell them the past. Tell them of Nuremburg. 

Tell them thou'st lived in sin. Tell them the 

truth. 
Saint Hypocrite." 

Frieke. What were the blessed words 

We read last night at pray'r ? " Neither do I 
Condemn thee — go and sin no more." 

St. H. At times 

I long to stand up in the market place 
And cry the truth ! 

Frieke. But Luther, knowing all. 

Still sent you forth to preach the word. He made 
You promise 

St. H. Aye, I hear his voice to-day, 

Deep with the dignity of tears unshed. 
As it swept through me in his dying hours : 
" Promise to keep thy peace. Not for thy sake, 
But for the weaker brethren. We fight 

\Luthers hymn heard sung by children in distance. 
Not for the strong, but feeble. Keep thy peace." 
He stood so near to God, I promised him, 
And yet 

Frieke. You'll keep that promise, sister. Hark! 

\_Hymn louder. 
The brethren greet you on your birthday! 

\Hymn louder. 

St. H. The children ! \Rims to the door, L. C. B.,. 
and looks off.^ Yea, all the school — each with a 
bunch of hedge-row bloom tight in their tiny 
hands; and all wear favours like thine own. 

Frieke. I made them all, and call them " Faith's 
Favours." The Brethren will march the streets 
to-day with them, to show that they are Hulda's 
folk. 



22 LOVE AND FAITH. [act ii. 

SL H. How pretty ! I must kiss you for the 
thought. \Kisses her.'] And here they come. 
Come in — come in ! 

{^Enter Children and Villagers, all wearing 
favours, also Max, C. B. The Children 
run up and prese?it their Utile posies of flowers. 
The Villagers ratige themselves at back. The 
Children dance a country dance before Hulda, 
who watches them with delight., then suddenly , 
like a child, she herself joins in the measure. 
Serio-comic dance for Hulda and a tiny Child, 
zvhich ends in Hulda's catching her up and 
kissing her. Others laugh and applaud. 

Voices. " Heaven bless you, Hulda ! " " The Lord 
send you many happy birthdays." " Health and 
happiness to you ! " 

St. H. \Moved?^ Thanks, thanks, good friends ! 

Max. So please you, dear Saint, some of us have 
a few trifles for your kind acceptance. Here be 
€ggs and butter, a country cheese, a chicken, a 
chap, — home cured, — and good white bread. 

\^The CiTiz^ns file past, giving their little presents. 

Pri7tter. {Forward, giving hook.'] With the 
author's best wishes. 

St. H. {Reading.] " Chats with the Devil, or 
Evenings in Hell." Is this for me? 

Printer. Indeed it is! I wrote and printed it all 
myself. It is a rousing allegory, full of shocks and 
horrors. It ought to sell, but it don't. If you 
could mention it in your next sermon it might be 
helpful to the Brethren. You will find the printer's 
name on the title page. 

St. H. Oh, yes, I see ! I'll not forget. 

Citizen. Here's a bottle of treacle water, lady. 
Made it myself. A certain cure for corns, warts, 
bunions, and flat feet. Maybe you suffer from 
such complaint ? 



SCENE I.] LOVE AND FAITH. 23 

St. H. Not just at present. 

Citizen. \CrestfallenP\ Oh, I am sorry ! {Bright- 
ening?\ But you may, you know. The flesh is 
heir to all ills — you may. I should keep it handy. 

St. H. Indeed I will! 

[Bootmaker thrusts a pair of shoes into Hulda's 
hands and sidles off. 

For me? 

Boot. \_N adding^ I made 'em. 

St. H. S^Putting on first one and then the otlier, 
walks proudly up and doivn.~\ How grand ! They 
feel familiar as old friends! How guessed you so 
exactly ? 

Boot. Dame Friederike stole me this. 

Yfroduces old shoe. 

St. H. Barabbas ! 

Boot. I'd like — if 'tis no offence — I'd like to keep it. 

St. H. It's worn out. 

Boot. {Putting it in breast^ Aye — walking 
heavenwards ! 

Old Woman. An' here be a little something I ha' 
worked wi' my own hands to keep 'ee warm come 
Christmas time. 

[ Unfolds a woollen cape of hideous colors and design. 

St. H. [Aghast.^ How — how wonderful ! 

Old W. Aye, aye, I chose the wools myself, an' a 
nice large pattern, as my sight ain't what it was 
fifty years ago. 

St. H. \_Putting it on.^ It's very soft and warm. 

Old W. \_Proudly.'] Aye, aye ! I always wear the 
like myself. {Looking at St. Hulda dubiously.'] 
Somehow, I don't know — somehow it looks a little 
gay. You don't think them colors seem owdacious, 
do you? 

St. H. {Kissing her.] Fear not, dear mother — 
your work defies improvement. 

Frieke. Now, neighbours, we've all our work to 
do, and so has Sister Hulda. Make good days. 



24 LOVE AND FAITH. [act m 

Voices. [Going.'] " Aye, aye, good-day ! " " God 
bless you, sister," " Heaven send you many happy 
birthdays," etc., etc. 

St. H. Dear friends, I know not how to thank 
you. Thank you all. 

[Villagers go off, L. C. B. Children crowd 
round her. 

And you, my little ones, I'll wear your flowers at 
school to-night. Till then — good-by ! 

Children. Good-by, good-by, dear Mistress Hulda ! 

\_Exeunt Children, L. C. B. 

St. H. Well, Sister Frieke, and what news ? 

Frieke. The town Council sits this morning. 

St. H. I know. I have been bidden to attend 
and learn their decision — whether I am to be 
suffered to remain or be expelled from Minden- 
burg. 

Frieke. If the council listens to the people's 
voices, your safety is secured. 

St. H. I fear our enemies will prevail. 

Frieke. Nay, thy friends are just as numerous. 
They say it depends upon the Burgpmaster. 

St. H. The Burgomaster — " unstable as water." 

Frieke. Oh, there is hope ! The Burgomaster 
hath professed great admiration for me. 

Max. \_At back — sardonically?^ Ha! ha! That's 
quaint ! 

Frieke. You! \Turning?\ There, lazy-bones! 
get you to your taps at once ! 

Max. If that Knipperdolling comes here again, 
he'll leave feet foremost — for I'll kill him ! 

St. H. Have patience. Max, have patience I 
{Taking favour off Frieke's breast and plaining it 
on to Max.] There ! Faith's favour : wear it as a 
token you trust her. 

Max. Ah ! Sister, you're an angel, and it's easy 
enough to believe in you. But she — she's a 
widow — and one's never quite sure. I do try to be 



SCENE I.] LOVE AND FAITH. 25 

one of the faithful — indeed I do, dear Sister, but the 
faithfullest of the faithful hates to be fooled. 

\^Exit Max. 
Frieke. I cannot tell why the good Lord made 
men and turkey-cocks at all — there's no peace when 
they're about. You see the mood Max is in ; I 
daren't tell him the Burgomaster is coming here 
this morning, and that he's written poetry to me. 
Listen ! {Produces letter and reads.^ " To the 
widow of widows " — that's me ! 

" My heart's afire with sweet desire 
And passion most disastrous. 
Oh, Frieke, why may I not die 
Upon thy bosom alabastrous ! " 

That's a pretty word, alabastrous ! I like it. " I 
will be at thy private door at 12 o' the dial. — John." 
\Laughs, and tosses letter on to the table ^^ And so 
will I, and so will I — only I must get Max out of 
the house. 

St. H. Oh, Frieke ! Master KnipperdolHng has a 
wife. 

Frieke. Fear not. He shall return home un- 
harmed, but I'll have his vote, for the Burgo- 
master's vtine ! 

{Exits laughing, R. St. Hulda busies herself with 
presents. 
St. H. My people's gifts ! And I once cried 
aloud 
There is no good on earth, no God on high ! 

[Heinric appears at windotv, B. C, with flowers. 
{Reading on a present?^ " To St. Hulda." Ah ! 
no saint, but a sad woman ! 

Heinric, entering L. C, comes down. 

Hein. Alone, and on this day? 

St. H. Heinric, my lord ! 



26 LOVE AND FAITH. [act ii. 

Hein. {Giving flowers?\^ With birthday congratu- 
tions. 

St. H. [ With cry of pleasure.'] Oh, how good ! 
And you remember'd — 

Hein. That you loved the best 

Of all the flowers the starry Edelweis. 
I gathered it at dawn-time on the tops. 
Wear it, sweet saint, it comes from snowlands pure 
And lofty as thy soul. [HULDA turns. 

Why wilt not wear it ? 

St. H. Not as a saint. Ah ! which of us has 
right 
To such a name ? 

Hein. Then wear it, Modesty, 

Not for the good in thee, but for the good 
Thou callest forth in us. Thine influence 
Sent me to seek the Edelweis on high. 

St. H. I'll wear it at my heart in memory 
Of Mindenburg. \Sits at spinning wheel. 

Hein. Know you that it is six months 

Since first you came ? 

St. H. Six months ! So long as that ? 

Hein. So short as that, and yet it seems to me 
As if it never could have been but thus. 

Si. H. It was midwinter then. 

Hein. And now the warmth 

Of summer skies. 

St^-H. And after flower, the fruit ; 

Then frost again. 

Hein. Not while St. Hulda shines. 

St. H. But she will have her passing like the rest. 

Hein. Hulda, thou wilt not leave us? 

St. H. Who shall say > 

There is a story which comes back to me 
From childhood's treasury. My father's way 
Was on the deep, the captain of a ship, 
Who, coming home would love to cosset me 
Upon his knee before the winter fire. 



SCENE I.] LOVE AND FAITH. 27 

And tell me stories of preposterous 

Adventures on far seas. And of all tales 

I most loved one that told how, after squalls 

And tempests for six days, his battered ship 

Lay rolling in the furrows of the gale — 

For tho' the wind had swooned to breathless calm,. 

The shaken seas could not forget their moil. 

My father had relieved the helm, seeing the crew 

Were worn with sleepless nights, dispirited 

Unto the verge of open mutiny — 

Fresh water too ran low, and the salt meats 

Bred scurvy and foul sores. " Let us put back," 

The sailors cried. " Death is'our port ahead." 

And as they lay adrift in misery, 

The sport of tides, a wonder came to pass, 

For on the spray-splashed deck — no man knew 

whence — 
There dropped a solitary storm-blown bird, 
A wet-winged wanderer and sorry as themselves. 
One sailor madeto kill it, with an oath. 
Out of sheer spleen, but father caught the waif 
And warmed it at his* heart and gave it food. 
And at the setting of the murky sun 
He cast the feathered pilgrim in the air, 
And lo ! it circled thrice around the ship, 
Then settled on the mast, and lifting up 
Its breast, burst out in passionate melody, 
A song so sweet and clear, the watch awoke 
Their weary mates to listen. And one said, 
" It is from home." Another, " 'Tis from God I " 
And all in whisper, " 'Tis a miracle ! " 
And through the livelong night the small bird sang 
Her starlit song — and harps were in the air — 
Yet when the morning broke the bird was gone — 
But courage fell upon the listless crew, 
And on the seventh day they sighted land. 

Hein. A fairie tale. What brings the fable 
home? 



28 LOVE AND FAITH. [act ii. 

Si. H. I am a bird of passage. 

Hein. Dullard I ! 

You mean that Mindenbu^g was as the ship? 

St. H. And you the captain who received the bird. 

Hein. \To her.'\ Which will not leave us? 

St. H. Not before day breaks. 

Hein. And then ? 

St. H. The swallow must go further north, 

Preaching the word of summer on the text 
Of spring. 

Hein. Nay, but e'en swallows build their nests 
At last ! 

St. H. In divers pi'aces. One will find 
Her rest beneath the roof of man : another 
God's house affords the shelter of His eaves. 

^Seeing his face. 
Nay look not sad. 

Hein. {Taking her hand tenderly ?\ Hulda ! 

St. H. [ Withdrawing her hand hastily.'] 

My lord ! I mean 
My hands are rough and scarred with needle-frays. 

{Looking up smiling. 
Your saint is but woman after all. 

Hein. The more saintly for her sex. I hate 
To see those toilsome scars. 

St. H. I work to live. 

Hein. But why such menial work? How many 
times 
Have all the Brethren beseeched thee take 
Some contribution for your daily needs ? 

St. H. {Smiling.'] A Jewish gentleman once 
broke his nails 
Tent making. 

Hein. Nature never meant the vine 

Of womanhood to carry its own weight 
Alone, It can but crawl the earth, 
Stretching its wistful tendrils to the weeds. 
Give it support, and lo ! it will o'ertop 



SCENE I.] LOVE AND FAITH. 29 

The sterile standard with a crown of frond, 
And compliment of fruit. 

SL H. But if the vine 

Should choose support, deeming as heart of oak 
What is but touch-wood, so that when the vine 
Be heavy with its fruit her standard snaps 
And fails her, and she finds the cluster's wealth. 
Which she had raised in joy to Heaven, dashed 
To Earth ? 

Hein. She knows by instinct, brave from base. 

St. H. Not always — till too late ! 

Hein. [To her.'] Ah ! fear not that! 

I know I am unworthy, but not false. 
I would not fail thee though we stood alone 
Accursed by all the world. 

St. H. [Moving^ My lord — my lord 

Hein. Raise not that futile barrier. Were I 
A king, thou still wouldst be my crown ! 

[Catches her hand. 

St. H. Let me go ! 

Hein. Give me thyself in holy custody, 

Give me the right to fend thee through- the world, 
To bear thy burdens, fight thy fight through life, 
Through death till God's deliverance, to wear 
Thee as my wife. 

St. H. [Breaks away^ You know not what you 
ask — 
It is impossible ! 

Heiji. Impossible ! 

St. H. You could not love me if you knew 

Hein. Thou lovest 

Another? 

St. H. There is no such thing as love 
For such as me. 

Hein. Thou meanest thou hast a vow ? 

St. H. Aye so, a vow ! A vow ! 

Hein. The Devil's vow 

That would deny the love that God afifirms. 



30 LOVE AND FAITH. [act ii. 

Think'st thou the virgin purer than the. wife ? 
Think'st thou the mother lower than the maid ? 
Or barrenness more beautiful than birth ? 
Thou knowest it is not. 

St. H. Love is not for me. 

Hein. Prize it or spurn it as the worthless thing 
It is, my love is thine, as I am thine. 
Thou'st called me from the filthy byre of swine, 
The wallow of indulgence and gross deeds ; 
Thou'st turned my feet toward the hill, my face 
Toward the light. Thou'st called me and I've 

come. 
God sent thee to me. Send me not away. 

\Catching her hand. 

St. H. [Breaking aivay.l Go ! Go ! You know 
not what you ask me. Go! 
I am not what you think me. As you love me, 
Leave me, nor look upon my face again ! 

Hein. Hulda, Hulda! What have I said? 

St. H. You take 

Advantage of my weakness. I am worn, 
O'erstrung, my strength is squandered in attempts 
To comfort others, and you come to me — 
You whom I looked to as my guard and guide — 
And tempt me break my vow ! Go, leave me ! 
Go! 

Hein. [Pause.] Hulda, forgive me ! Take a vow 
for vow 
Until thy work and mine shall be complete. 
Until the Cause, now cradled on thy breast. 
Hath grown beyond the need of motherhood, 
Until the hour that Germany is free, 
I will not speak to thee of this again. 

St. H. Heinric! 

Hein. [To ker.] Thou canst trust me ? 

St. H. [Giving hand.'] Until death ! 

Hein. Nay, 

Till victory, and then 



SCENE I.] LOVE AND FAITH. 31 

St. H. No, never that. 

What has been has been, though God always is. 

[ With renewal of passion. 
Oh, but I do deceive thee. Hear the truth 
It stifles me — turn from me, for I am — 
I am — Heinric, help ! 

YPuts handkerchief to her mouth and falls. 
Heiii. \jC ate king her ?^ Hulda? Blood! 

\Carries her to chair. 
Speak, Hulda — speak ! 

St. H. {Recovering, but half -unconscious?^ 

Father, I did not know ! 
No, no, don't curse me ! Brothers, speak for me ! 
You loved him too. You brought him to our 

home. 
You praised his courage and his grace. You called 
Him friend, and I — I trusted him. Oh, God ! 
I trusted him, and he will spare your lives. 
You know not all. He must — he must ! Don't 
look 

At me like that, father 

Hein. Hulda! 

St. H. {Recognizing him.'] Heinric ! 

What is 't ? 

Hein. Thou wert struck down. 

St. H. Aye so. I know. 

Tins happened once before at Nuremburg ! 
They warned me of recurrence. Nay, 'tis past. 
{Smiling?^ Give me some wine. 

{He fetches some from the sideboard to table. She 
drinks. 

I must to the Rath-haus. 

Hein. Thou art not fit to 

St. H. {Smiling.'] Nay, fear not. I bend 

Where others break. 

[ Tries to rise, but sinks back. 
Hein. You see ! Dear Sister, rest ! 

I'll to the Rath-haus to prepare the way. 



32 LOVE AND FAITH. [act li, 

I'll speak for thee and for our common faith. 
Courage, dear Hulda, courage! I'm with thee, 
And God with us. 

St. H. {Rising^ Aye, go — I'll follow thee. 
See, I am strong again — there is no time 
To lose. Thy people need thee. Haste ! 

\_Exit Heinric, L. C. 
Weak, weak and wicked. I foresaw the end, 
And lied unto myself. Lied when I said 
It could not be. Lied to my double self. 
Crying, " My soul is dead to earthly love." 
Knowing I lied, for even as I spake 
My woman's heart cried out as I have heard 
An infant's wailing cry waking at night 
To sudden loneliness. How can I preach 
The truth, with lips steeped in duplicity? 
How can I save my people, being lost 
Myself ! Lost— lost ! 

l^Exit Hulda, R. U. E, 

Enter Frieke with bunch of keys, R., followed by Max, 
carrying lavender heads. Frieke unlocks and opens a 
chest, R. B. 

Frieke. There ! Put you the lavender in there. 
So ! How sweet it smells. I feel that I could roll 
in it. [^Gives letter.'] Take this to Dame Christian — 
you know the house ? 

Max. Aye. 'Tis a long step from here. 

{^Lays letter on table and assists Frieke. 

Frieke. Not for your great legs. Ask for the 
sheets I lent last week, bring them back with you 
and lay them here. [Arranges things in chest.'\ 
Then lock the chest again. I'll leave the keys on 
their peg in the common-room. 

Max. I'll not be long ! 

Frieke. \_Laughing.~\ Can you trust me, Max? 

Max. Yes, yes ! I'll never be jealous again, 
Frieke. 



SCENE I.] LOVE AND FAITH. 33 

Frieke. You're sure ? 

Max. Quite sure ! {^Makes to kiss her. 

Frieke. No, no ! Get you gone ! Get you gone ! 

\^Sees him off L. C, B. 
There, he's safe ! I do believe there'd be a 
murder if he met the Burgomaster now. But I'll 
get that vote, or I'm no woman — or widow either ! 

S^Exit Frieke with keys. 

Re-enter Max hastily, L. C. B. 

Max. Faith, I must be in love indeed ! I've got 
a head on me like a riddle. Where did I put that 
letter? {Picks tip Knipperdolling's letter 7\ No, 
that's not it. [Reads :^ " To the widow of widows." 
The widow of widows — that's Frieke? Who writes 
to Frieke ? "John." John? It's Knipperdolling. 
And poetry! How dare he write poetry? "Oh, 
Frieke, why may I not die upon thy bosom ala- 
bastrous?" She's egged him on to this — she must 
have done. A man needs a deal of encouragement 
before he writes such poetry as this. But what a 
villain — with a wife at home, too ! " I'll be at your 
private door at twelve o'clock o' the dial." So 
that's why I've been sent to Dame Christian's at 
the other end of the town ! But I'll surprise 'em — 

I'll fall on them in their guilt. I'll 

[Knipperdolling passes window and knocks softly. 
Tups and tom cats ! That's he ! 

[Max gets into the chest and closes the lid, leaving 
one of the streamers of his favour outside. 
Enter Frieke, R. Knock repeated softly. 
She opens D., L. C. B. Enter Knipperdoll- 
ing. 

Knip. We are alone ? 
Frieke. In sooth we are. 
Knip. \Kissing ker.'\ Mouse ! 



34 LOVE AND FAITH. [act ii. 

Max. \Peeping7\ She struggles not nor screams I 
Be calm ! Be calm ! 

Frieke. {Head on shoulder.'] Why do I love thee 
so, Cony? 

Max. {Aside']. Jezebel ! Jezebel ! 

Knip. Many women have asked me that, Mouse. 
'Tis a hard question to answer. 

Frieke. And you love me, my lamb ? 

Knip. Honeysuckle ! {Kisses her^ 

Max. Slaughter him, slaughter him ! 

Knip. Thou'rt sure we are not watched, Mouse? 

Frieke. Sure, Cony, why? 

Kjiip. Methought I saw your hulking tapster as 
I passed the window. 

Frieke. It must have been your fancy, lamb. 
I've sent him on an errand and he can't be back for 
full an hour. {Sees ribbon, goes up and examines it ; 
bus^ Heavens ! {Sits quietly on chests 

Knip. What is it. Mouse? 

Frieke. {Aside.] He'll kill him before he has time 
to vote ! 

{Aloud.] Nothing, Cony, nothing ! Come sit 
beside me. So ! 

Knip. {Sitting on chest.] So ! 

Frieke. {Aside.] Saved ! 

Knip. {Arm around waist ^ I could sit so for 
ever, Mouse. 

Frieke. Could you ? {Aside.] You would an 
you knew what you were sitting on. 

Knip. You must dismiss that fellow Max. 

Frieke. The disbelieving Didymus. To spy or» 
on me ! I'll swing him for't. 

Knip. You wander. Chicken. 

Frieke. {Starting^] Yes — no — dear Cony, I was- 
thinking. 

Knip. The fool is jealous, Mouse, jealous of me. 

Frieke. {Coaxing^ He must be a fool. Cony. 

Knip. Oh, but I've seen him glare at me, just 



SCENE I.] LOVE AND FAITH. 35 

so — as I'm a magistrate, an he do it again, I'll lock 
him up. 

Frieke. The key is in the common room, 

Knip. Eh ? Not that I fear any man though he 
be as big as a house. A little carte, a little tierce, 
oh, I can be a whirlwind fencer an I choose. A 
little " Whit ! " and he's dead hneat. But there 
might be a scandal. Dismiss the fool. 

Frieke. Indeed, I think I will, Cony. He's a 
suspicious eaves-dropping loon, with an eye to 
every chink and an ear to each keyhole ! 

Knip. {Rising?^ Eh ? 

Frieke. \Piilling him daek.] Sit down ! 

Knip. Sweet Mouse ! 

Frieke. I mean I feel secure when you sit thus. 

Knip. But I must to the Rath-haus, Mouse. 

Frieke. [Coaring.] Aye, to vote for Hulda, 
Cony. 

Knip. Hum, hum! There be difficulties, Mouse ! 
Brother Manteuffel says 

Frieke. Oh, but you promised me ! 

Knip. Brother Manteuffel says 

Frieke. Oh, but you promised me ! You remem- 
ber, Cony. You promised me, when you kissed me 
in the passage'and said you loved me and had had 
enough to drink. Don't you remember? 

Knip. Maybe, maybe ; I was premature. 

Frieke. \Risi7tg^ Oh ! Oh ! You do not love 
me ! 

Knip. \Rising?\ Chicken, I swear 

Frieke. S^Pushiiig him dack.'] Sit down ! 

Knip. You are abrupt, sweet Mouse. 

Frieke. I'm not your Mouse. You love Man- 
teuffel more than me. 

Knip. I loathe Manteuffel. He's a devil and he 
makes me his imp ! I'm a slave, a cypher, a ban- 
dog in my own house. 

Frieke. Vote for Hulda, and be free ! 



36 LOVE AND FAITH. [act ii. 

Knip. But Manteuffel says- 



Frieke. If Manteuffel says anything, clap him in 
prison. [Knip. rises aghast ; she gently reseats him^ 
The people are all for Hulda. Heinric is for Hulda, 
the Council is divided against itself. Declare for 
Hulda, Cony, and you will be the hero of the hour ! 

Knip. Oh, I could be a hero an I chose, but 
there's Otho 

Frieke. He's leagues away, fighting the Turks in 
Hungary. 

Knip. Think you I could, in good sooth, imprison 
Manteuffel were I to turn Protester? 

Frieke. To be sure. Cony ; he's a Catholic. 

Knip. And load him with chains? 

Frieke. 'Twould be the proper thing to do. 

Knip. And fling him in a dungeon — a deep 
dungeon, Mouse, with toads and other reptiles? 

Frieke. And a convenient grill i' the door, 
through which you could view him. Cony, and 
exhort him daily. 

Knip. \Rising7\ I'll vote for Hulda! I'm for 
the Reformation, especially at home! \To door, 
L. C. B.] Kiss me, Mouse. 

Frieke. No-o, I'll sit me here. Cony, till you 
come back, and then [Blows kiss. 

Knip. {Blows kisses — Aside^ A little eloquence, 
a little earnestness. Oh, I can be the reformer, an 
I choose. A little " Ooh," Manteuffel's in prison, 
and the widow mine. 

{Blows kisses and exits L. C. B. Repeats busi- 
ness through window and goes off. 

Frieke. {Watches him off, then down stage, off 
chest.^ You may come out now. {Pause.)^ Do 
you hear, Didymus ? {Lid opens slowly and MAX 
appears sheepishly.^ You ? 

Max. You knew that I was here? 

Frieke. I saw you, or I could never have believed 
that a brave soldier and an honest man could play 



SCENE I.] LOVE AND FAITH. 37 

the spy on the the woman he professed to love. 
You can go ! I've done with you ! 

[Max scratches his head, gets slowly out of chest, 
a?td goes slowly L. C. B. 

Frieke. You don't even say you are ashamed. 

Max. [Pausing.'] I'm a villain ! \_She nods.] 
A damned disbelieving villain ! [She nods.] I'm 
not fit for you. [She shakes her head.] I deserve 
to be whipped round the town. 

Frieke. Twice ! 

Max. I'll go and hang myself. 

Frieke. In lavender ! Not yet. Hulda needs our 
lives. Get thee to the Rath-haus, and after many 
days, if thou canst learn an honest faith, perchance 
I may forgive thee. 

Max. Frieke ! 

Frieke. Go ! get thee faith ! 

Max. I do believe, I luill believe, that widows do 
no wrong. [Exits L. C. B. 

Frieke. That's as it should be, honest Max. An 
men have not faith in women, what should we do 
with our frailties? Ah ! My Lord ! 

Enter Heinric hastily, L. C. B. 

Hein. Go, call St. Hulda, quick ! I have spoken 
for her and declared my faith. The Burghers who 
were wavering are with us. Frieke, we shall win 
the day! I've ordered men to every belfry tower, 
so when the vote is given, chime upon chime shall 
clamour Hulda's victory. 

[Blare of trumpets. Prince Otho and Retinue 
seen passing window. 
Frieke. Mein Gott ! The Prince ! 
Hein. Come to arrest her. 

[Knock at L. C. D. 

Frieke. Nay, he cannot know. Keep him. 

Baron, keep him here until the Councillors com- 



38 LOVE AND FAITH. [act ii, 

mit themselves ; they cannot then go back or 
yield her up. 

\^Knock louder. 

I'll pass our sister through the stables. 

Hein. Open — I understand. [Frieke opens 
door. Enter Otb.0. Soi.T>TEWS, line the street back. 1 
Your Highness's health. 

Otho. Heinric, I have been seeking you for full 
an hour. 

Hein. Sire, had I expected you 

Otho. {Laughs^ I might be otherwhere. I am 
the unexpected. \To Frieke.'] Let them wait 
without. You can withdraw, \_She courtesys and 
exits, R. U. E. Otho lays hand kindly on Hein- 
RIC's shoulders.'] Well, what news ? 

Hein. Sir, I have no news for one who has 
met and mastered the Turkish Janisaries. The 
fame of your achievements has reached us even 
here. 

Otho. [^Sits.] We beat them ; but it took six 
months to do it. They threatened Wein itself 
before I came. 

Hein. We heard the Emperor dispatched you 
with scant notice, sir. 

Otho. I had scarce reached Halle when His Ma- 
jesty's message reached me bidding me go at once. 
Heinric, she escaped me yet again. 

Hein. Who, sir ! 

Otho. The woman, Hulda. 

Hein. Aye, sir, I know. 

Otho. But you do not know I passed her on my 
march. She was at Mindenburg when I passed 
through. 

Hein. Indeed, your Highness ? 

Otho. \Rises and walks.] And one of my fellows 
knew of it, and let her pass by. 

Hein. [Aside.] True man ! [Aloud.] Being a 
Protester, sir? 



SCENE I.] LOVE AND FAITH. 39 

Otho. He was; but is not, for I hung him for his 
treachery. 

Hein. Ah, yes, his treachery. 

Otho. To be thrice foiled, and by a woman ! 

Hein. Sir, why let it rankle ? 

Otho. Nettles, nettles ! But you are right ! I 
came to Mindenburg to find a friend — not catch a 
foe ! \Sits?\ Heinric, the issue of this war has 
placed me first of all the King's High Councillors. 

Hein. I hear that at Cologne the Emperor him- 
self rode forth to meet you with the lords and 
ladies of the Court. 

Otho. His Majesty was pleased to show marked 
•favours. And one of the fairest ladies of the Court 
was an old friend of yours. 

Hein. Nay, sir, I have no friends at Court. 

Otho. Aye, one who often spoke to me of you. 

Hein. Of me ? 

Otho. Mind you our little playfellow of school- 
boy days, the dark-eyed Wilhelmina ! 

Hein. Aye, sir, the only daughter of the Duke of 
Balve. 

OtJio. She hath a sweet and tender disposition, 
and a grace of body which a king might covet. 

Hein. She was beautiful, as a child. 

Otho. The flower hath passed the promise of the 
bud. \Rises, crosses to him.'] Heinric, I come to 
bring you back with me as her accepted suitor. 

Hein. I, sir, I ? 

Otho. Oh, pretty dififidence ! Yes, Heinric, you! 

Hein. But I am half a peasant. 

Otho. Whose sires fought under Charlemagne. 

Hein. Unknown. 

Otho. But with a future. 

Hein. Beggar'd of fortune. 

Otho. No, Master Phoenix, for out of the ashes 
of your lost estates you shall arise with wider wings 
to shadow a whole province. King Charles is ever 



40 LOVE AND FAITH. [act ii. 

lavish of reward to those who serve him well, and 
for my lucky victory he hath bestowed on me the 
richest province of the Rhine to have and hold 
in perpetuity. And to this hereditament I do 
appoint thee fief. 

Hein. Sire ! 

Otho. It marches league for league beside the 
Duke of Balve's land. The Duke is very old — his 
only child a girl. The lands go with her, which, 
conjoined with yours, would make a little king- 
dom in the heart of fairest Germany. Well, what 
say you ? 

Hein. I — I am confounded. I know not what to 
say, lest I should seem ungrateful. 

Otho. It is my pleasure, as it shall be yours. 

Hein. Sire, I cannot take your bounty, for my 
love is pledged elsewhere. 

Otho. \Laughing7\ There speaks the simple coun- 
try character ! Man's love is a very wild cat, a 
vagrant gypsy, inconstant as the sky; affection is a 
house dog, a creature of habit, faithful to the fire, 
and very loth to wander for his food. Let the 
wildcat prowl the woods and poach what game 
he may — but keep a dog to watch the hearth at 
home. 

Hein. The Duke of Balve champions the Pope. 

Otho. Indeed he does. He boasts he has not left 
a Protester in his province. 

Hein. Then I am outlawed there. 

Otho. What mean you ? 

Hein. \_Rising7\ I have joined the Reformer's 
cause. 

Otho. [^Rising.'] Heinric ! Nay, nay ! You jest! 

Hein. For the first time in my life of lightness, 
sir, I am in earnest. 

Otho. [^To him.'] How dare you tell me this? Do 
you not know? 

Hein. Yes, sir, I know. 



SCENE I.] LOVE AND FAITH. 41 

Otho. \_Restraini71g himself?^ Heinric, I do not 
threaten, I beseech. 
An elder brother with his younger pleads, 
For though our days be equal, I have hung 
In the world's sun and ripened ; while thy heart, 
Hid in the shady bowers of Mindenburg, 
Still wears the green of youth. 

Hein. I have stept 

From rust to revelation. 

Otho. We've all felt. 

That whirl of random urgency. Rack not 
The wine at such a time. The drinking comes 
When age has fined youth's fierce insistency. 

Hein. I am no youth. 

Otho. At heart a very boy ! 

Hein. I hold a man's ideal ! 

Otho. Let it go ! 

Ideals are for a woman, not for man 
Whose sterner fingers grip the throat of fact. 

. [ Very earnestly. 
By our dear comradeship, I pray you pause : 
You will be dispossessed of all you hold ; 
Imprisoned, tortured, maybe put to death. 

Hein. They may despoil me of my heritage, 
May cripple freedom^ snatch dear life itself, 
One thing remains: they cannot take from me 
The hallow of idea. 

Otho. [Bri/y.'] Who is it ? 

Hein. Sir? 

Otho. The woman ! 

Hein, I spoke not of woman 

Otho. But the woman speaks through you. 

Hein. Aye, 'tis true, 

A woman's purity has awoke my better self, 
And human love is guide to holy Faith. 

Otho. {Laughing?}^ Priapus, God of substance, not 
idea ! 



42 LOVE AND FAITH. [act ii. 

Hein. Ah, sir, you do not know this woman's life. 
Will you not see and hear, before you judge ? 

Otlio. Enough, enough! Such importunity 
O'erleaps respect. Think you to whom you speak? 

Hein. Aye, sir, unto a powerful Prince, and just. 

Otho. But pitiless. Trade not on past regard ; 
Expect no mercy at our friendship's grave. 

Hein. \Bozving^ I ask for nothing, sir, but leave 
to go. 

[^Dislant church bells to end of Act. Music. 

Otho. What means those bells ? 

Hein. Saint Hulda's victory. 

Otho. St. Hulda ! Hulda here ! 

Hein. Aye, here ! 

Otho. And you — you dare to shelter her ? 

Hein. Aye, unto death I 

Otho. Treachery ! Treachery ! 

Duped — and by you ! 

Hein. I know what I have done, 

I am with Hulda, sir! 

Otho. ' Aye, fool, in gaol ! 

Ho, officer ! 

Enter Officer, L. E. Open door showing file of Soldiers 
i7i street. Music and cheering louder. 

Hein. Too late, for Mindenburg 

Has spoken, and St. Hulda's cause is ours. 

[Hein throws open witidow and looks out. 
Look where she comes, white, wonderful, supreme. 
The snowy crest of that wild human wave 
Which surges roaring up the cobbled street ! 
See how grown men flock round to kiss her robes ; 
See how the women lift their babes to her. 
With tears and laughter and great sobs of joy. 
And she, a child, amongst the children walks. 
With heart as fragrant as their own! Look, Prince, 
She wears God's patent on her moonlit brows ! 

[Prince to the window — starts. 



SCENE I.] LOVE AND FAITH. 43 

Otho. [Aside.] Katchen ! [A/oud.'] That ! that 
— is not St Hulda ! 

Hein. Aye ! 
The woman I have asked to be my wife ! 

[Prince looks at him curiously, and bursts into a 
cruel, mirthless laugh. Picture. Forte Music 
to 



END OF ACT. 



44 LOVE AND FAITH. [act iii. 



ACT III. 

Scene I. Room as in Act II. Frieke. discovered. 
Enter Max hastily, L. C. B, 

Frieke. Well ? 

Max. Heaven grant it may be well. The Prince 
means mischief. 

Frieke. Where is he ? 

Max. Still within the city. 

Frieke. And his soldiers. 

Max. Outside. The Baron Heinric hath closed 
the gates upon them. 

Frieke. Oh, Max ! If they should try and force 
the town ? 

Max. Heinric is ready, and we are his men to 
death. 

Frieke. Hush ! [Enter St. Hulda.] You've 
heard the news, dear sister? 

St. H. Yes, Frieke, we are put upon our trial. 

Max. Fear not ! we will not give you up. 

St. H. I do not fear, good Max. If I am grave,, 
'tis not for self, but others. The sturdy men who 
will be lost ; the wives who will be widows ; the 
widows who will mourn their only sons before this 
day is won. Frieke, were I to dwell on war's 
despite, I should betray my heart and yield myself 
to Otho. 

Frieke. Never, never ! You do not know the 
man. 

St. H. Mine eyes have never seen him, but mine 
ears are most familiar with his character. 

Frieke. He is cruel and pitiless. 

St. H. I know that well ; it would not hinder 
me. It is the knowledge of my people's needs- 



SCENE I.] LOVE AND FAITH. 45 

which gives me stout resolve. My post is at the 
tiller ; we must face the storm. I pray you fetch 
me Heinric, I would speak with him. 

Frieke. I'll go fetch him, sister. 

Max. Not alone. {Toher^ The streets are dark 
and lonesome. 

Frieke. I'm not afraid, but you may take my 
hand. 

Max. [^Taking hand.'] Dear Frieke ! 

Frieke. I know, I know, perhaps you may out- 
side. 

\^Exeunt Max and Frieke, L. C. B. 

St. H. I'll weave no further on this loom of lies ! 
Before he throws himself in Otho's path 
Heinric must know the truth. I'll tell him all, 
Aye, though he hates me for the thing I am. 

[Knock, L. C. B. 
It's just, it's just ! This is my punishment's 
Last crown of thorns ! 

Enter Heinric, L. C B. 

Hein. The city's gates are shut — 

Thou'rt safe, dear one. Why, sister, tears ? What 
is't ? 

St. H. [Aside.] The shame- will kill me. 

Hein. [To /ler.] Courage, dear sister 

Fear not this Otho ; we're 'twixt thee and him. 
My men are thine, and while our blood still beats 
'Tis thine to spend. 

St. H. Not mine, not mine, but God's! 

'Tis not for me you fight, but for the Cause. 

Hein. Thou art the Cause. 

St. H. No, no! I'm nothing — worse 

Than nothing, a poor might-have-been. The Cause 
Is what we strive for. 

Hein. Aye, the Cause ! 

St. H. And yet 

I am in doubt, perplexed. Advise me. 



46 LOVE AND FAITH. [act iii. 

Hein. I ? 

Who follow, not direct. 

St. H. But maybe soon 

Our people's fate will rest with thee alone. 

Hein. What mean you ? 

St. H. Listen — nor judge too harshly. 

It happened once — 'twas long ago, she said — 
That is, I knew a woman who once sinned 
Because she loved with faith too strong for doubt. 
Can there be room for such a thing as she 
Within our fold ? 

Hein. Why, sister, surely, yes. 

If her repentance be sincere. 

St. H. You say so ? 

But no ! Such sin as hers is past redeem. 
Light pardon is half-sister to connivance. 
She must stand separate — and yet, they say 
This woman hath persuasive gifts and grace 
To lead the people. 

Hein. . Why must chastity 

For ever lack the crown of charity ! 
May not the spirit's quality outweigh 
The body's flaws ? 

St. H. Think you 'tis so? Think you 

Despite the past she still may hope to leave 
The world the better for her coming? That 
Were hope indeed. But think ! She might but 

harm 
The Cause she seeks to serve. What if her past 
Were published? Might the weaker brethren 
Not deem her message vain, since she is vile, 
As precious wine stored in a rancid cask ? 

Hein. Let her not fear. The greater Truth shall 
rise, 
Blotting the lesser as the sun and stars. 

St. H. Thank God ! All's easy now. And tho' 
a just 



SCENE I.] LOVE AND FAITH. 47 

Disdain and horror wipe me from thy heart, 
The Cause is safe. 

Hein. Why, Hulda 

St. H. Hear me out ! 

I — even I — whom you regard a saint 

Heinric — I am 



Enter Max and Frieke hastily. 

Frieke. Sister! Sister! Good, my lord, the 
•citizens are crushing to the square. 

Hein. What want they ? 

Max. An ounce of lead apiece, my lord. 

Hein. A soldier's remedy. Let's first try argu- 
ments more easily digested. What call they for? 

Max. For everything and nothing. Some call 
for Hulda to be given up ; others defy the prince ; 
others preach compromise, and each swag-bellied 
citizen is shouting his own remedy, and not a single 
listener to any one of them. The whole square's 
like a may-tide rookery, all halloa and no help. 

Hein. I'll go to them. 

St. H. I fain would speak with thee before thou 
go'st. 

Frieke. [To Heinric, aside.'] You must with us 
at once, my Lord. 

The Burgomaster wavers, and would surrender our 
sister to Prince Otho. 

Heine. Hush! I'll come at once. \To HuLDA.] 
When I return, dear sister, I'll come for thee in a 
brief breathing space. 

St. H. But Heinric 

Hein. Fear not. All's well. Come ! 

[Exeunt Heinric, Max, and Frieke. 

St. H. He'll turn from me in loathing, but the 
Cause 
Is safe ; safer in his clean hands than mine. 
I see the new life broaden down the years ; 



48 LOVE AND FAITH. [act III, 

I see the new faith soar with Freedom's wing ; 
I see the children of another'age 
Rejoice in wider circumstance of soul, 
And reap, to sounds of laughter and of song, 
The seed we sow in blood and tears to-day. 
I see hereafter's joy, as Moses saw. 
With eyne still aching from the desert's scald, 
" The Good Land " roll in verdure to the sea, 
That Land of Promise barred to him by sin. 
Ah ! but he had his comfort, for he knew 
His great lieutenant would complete the work 
And lead his people home. Thank God, I too 
Have my brave Joshua, steadfast and strong ! 

[Takes up Heinric's roses and kisses them. Otho- 
seen at window back. 
The Cause is in thy keeping. I can go 
Back to the desert and be seen no more ! 

[Knock, L. C. B, 
'Tis he. Heinric, the Captain. 

[She crosses halfway to door. Enter Otho, wha 
comes down. 

Otho. [Coming down ^ Katchen ! 

[She crushes flowers to her breast, staring at him 
speechless. Pause. 

The thorns have pierced thy hands ; there's blood 
on them. Give me the flowers. [Toward her. 

St. H. Sigbert, the Fowler. What want you of 
me ? 

Otho. I sought an enemy: I find a friend. 

St. H. Sigbert, the Fowler. 

Otho. Nay, dear Katchen 

St. H. Katchen is dead. 

Otho. Forgive me, I forgot ! St. Hulda. [Bows7\ 
The name's an inspiration. Who father'd the 
conceit ? 

St. H. Luther gave me that name. 

Otho. How like the man ! You knew him ? 



SCENE I.] LOVE AND FAITH. 49 

St. H. He called me from the grave. 

Otho. You speak in parables. 

St. H. Would you have the truth ? 

Otho. It is the only thing I never fear. 

\^Sits, R. C. 

St. H. I would not stir the embers of the past. 

Otho. Is there still warmth in them ? 

St. H. Banked fires oft smoulder at their core, 
whose crust 
Is cold. Stir the red caverns, you may see 
Strange pictures i' the fire. A woman big 
With sin — Oh, yes ! why not ? That came to 

pass — 
Deserted and alone 

Otho. I sent for you. 

St. H. Aye ! With my brother's and my father's 
blood upon your head. 

Otho. That was the law, not I. 

St. H. Which you betrayed them to — through 
me, through me ! 

Otho. It was my duty — but I loved you, Katchen ! 
I sought you far and near. Where did you hide ? 

St. H. I know not where I went or what I did ; 
The months went by in leaden pilgrimage ; 
My faltering feet were wand'ring with my wits. 
That was God's mercy, for often as I lay 
Under the kindly lee of some swart hedge 
And stared into the freckled face of night, 
A gentle madness ranged fantastic fields 
In crazy comfort. 

Otho. I would fain have spared you, 

St. H. They say they found me crooning 
lullabies 
Over the still-born at my breast, while winter 
In irony swathed us in Samite snows. 
It was the time of visions and he came, — 
Luther, — the rugged man of war, whose heart 
Beat with a woman's throb. He took me home 



50 LOVE AND FAITH. [act iii. 

Unto his wife, who cradled me to life. 
When I recovered, Luther, knowing all. 
Spake words with me and laid his hands on me. 
'Twas in the garden that he loved to tend, 
And with him sat his wife and little ones ; 
The west was still a-warm with after-lights, 
While on the eastern sky-line the new moon 
Whetted her silver edge ; which Luther saw 
And said : " Behold a sign, St. Hulda's sickle ! 
Take thou the hook from Heaven's hand, 
Go forth a second Hulda, for the math 
Is ripe." With which he blessed me and I went. 
Leaving the past behind me. 

Otho. Yet behold ! 

It comes to you again in friendly guise. 

St. H. I knew that this would be. I've dreamt 
of this 
O' night, I've dreaded it by day. I've borne 
The tension of imagination's wrack 
Until reality brings sheer relief, 

Otho. I could not harm thee, Katchen. 

St. H. No ; you can do me no more harm, Sig- 
bert, the Fowler. 

Otho. Nay, St. Hulda, I too now wear another 
title. I am Otho, Prince of Halberstadt. 

St. H. You ? 

Otho. Is the change more Protean than your 
own ? 

St. H. {After pause.'] You have come to take 
me prisoner ? 

Otho. No ; I come for Heinric. 

St. H. Ah ! 

Otho. He has asked you to be his wife ? 

St. H. I have told him I can never be his wife. 

Otho. \To her.] You do not love him, Katchen ? 

St. H. {Facing him.'] It is because I love him 
this is impossible. 

Otho. [Drawing back.] Ah ! You love him> 



SCENE I.] LOVE AND FAITH. 51 

Yes, I understand — you love him. And love is a 
great cobbler of broken hearts. Yet the confession 
sounds somewhat strange, from you to me. [St. 
HULDA laughs bitterly^l Well, well, we'll let that 
pass. I have come for Heinric. 
St. H. Why ? 

Otho. Sit down and I will tell you. "[She sits^ 
I will not see him led thus blindly to his ruin. 
Yes, ruin, for your cause is doomed. Maurice of 
Saxony has joined the King. 
St. H. I know it. 

Otho. I have come to take Heinric back with me 
to. Court. A noble marriage waits him there — 
wide lands and high position. You bar his future : 
if you love him you will give him up. 
St. H. He is free to go. 

Otho. Your influence has bound him hand and 
foot. You alone can set him free. 

St. H. He is free to marry whomso'er he will. 
There's not a night but that I pray with all my 
heart Heaven may send him a wife who shall be 
worthy of his love. 

Otho. {Towards her.'] That is impossible so long 
as he remains a Protestant. [Movement for St. 
HULDA.] Nay, listen ! you must not only give him 
up, you must send him back to us. 
St. H. [Rising.'\ Rob him of faith ? 
Otho. You must send him back to us. 
St. H. Never, never ! I have resigned his love, 
I will forego his company, but I will not betray his 
soul's estate. I found that soul, a priceless pearl 
abandoned in the mire ; I snatched it from its foul 
association ; I washed it with my tears; I shaped it 
with my prayers ; I set it in the forefront of our 
Cause's diadem, and it is mine to wear. 
Otho. No — I have come for it. 
St. H. His soul is mine. I will not give it up! 
Otho. {Pause. Walks.'] See then, you need not. 



52 LOVE AND FAITH. [act in. 

Katchen, I wronged you once. Look you, I will 
repair that wrong. I offer you dominion, wealth, 
and fame, crowned by a loved one's love. Aye, 
Heinric's hand in marriage. [Movement for St. 
HuLDA.] Nay, I swear by Holy Rood and Peter's 
Chair to keep the confidence of what we only know, 
on one condition. 

St. H. Which is ? 

Otho. That you renounce the Reformation's 
creed. 

St. H. Can you be in earnest. Prince ? 

Otho. Think you I cannot do these things? 

St. H. Indeed I think you can ; but I cannot. . 

Otho. Cannot? Why? 

St. H. You of all men should know that what I 
do, whether I spring at heaven or plunge to hell, 
I do with all my might. I set my teeth and sinned, 
knowing I sinned. What wrought the wreckage 
may salvation win, and as I served the Devil, so 
will I serve my God, with single heart. 

Otho. \_Shruggmg his shoulders?^ I have come 
for Heinric. 

St. H. {Breaking down for a fnoinent?\ Have 
you no pity? Not even memory? I gave you all 
without a thought. I asked for nothing in return. 
I do ask now: I ask for this man's better self, 
the self I roused, the nobler instincts I awoke 
and mothered to their prime — all these are mine, 
mine, mine ! Sigbert, Sigbert, rob me not of 
that ! 

Otho. We are not children ; you must choose. 
Either you give him up, or I must tell the truth. 

St. H. Truth ! What do you with truth ? You 
to whom man's noblest aim is but a mummer's art? 
Simplicity, sincerity, and faith were mere attitudes, 
and life itself a game of cunning and conceit. 
What do you know of truth, whose love was 
treachery, whose honour is a lie? But if there be 



SCENE I.] LOVE AND FAITH. 53 

Truth in you, go, cry it from the housetops — I do 
not fear you now. 

OtJio. You will deny it, eh ? And Heinric will 
believe you ? You think the peasant maid has out- 
grown recognition. Have a care ! You may snatch 
Heinric for a space — a week, a month, a year, aftd 
and then I come with proven facts and nail them 
at your door, 

St. H. You need not search for proofs — Heinric 
shall know the truth. 

Otho. Ah ! I am to tell him ? 

St. i/. No ; I will tell him. 

Otho. Yoii ! This is a trick too simple to deceive. 

St. H. Did you ever know me lie in the old 
days ? 

Otho. No, Katchen, never. 

St. H. Nor do I now. I will tell Heinric all, and 
you shall hear me. 

Otho. Where? 

St. H. Before the people in the public square. 
Go wait me there. 

Otho. [Aside.'] The woman's mad ? [Bowing.'] 

^ . I go 
I must believe your word, and yet 'tis hard to 
understand. 

St. If. You would not understand that I have 
longed for years to cry my secret to the winds. 
The fears that gagged me were not for myself, but 
others, lest the Cause should suffer for my sin. But 
now that I know Heinric can bear the truth and 
still be steadfast to the faith, I'll wear a mask no 
more. 

Otho. There speaks a noble mind. I see it all ! 
[Aside.] She'll keep her word and lose her man. 
Heinric comes back to us. 



54 . LOVE AND FAITH. [act in. 

Enter Frieke hastily, L. C. B., with letter. 

Frieke. Sister, sister ! 

S^Sees Otho and stops short. Hides the letter. Bus. 

Otho. \Bowing^ We meet again upon the Rath- 
Haus steps. 

\Exit, L. C. B. 

Frieke. How he frightened me. But I hid the 
letter. See, sister, for you. 

\Gives letter. 

St. H. From John of Bradenberg. His secret 
mark. 

Frieke. The Duke. Read, read ! It should 
have reached you hours ago. 

St. H. [Opens.'] " Hold out against Prince Otho 
to the last — it is the Reformation's final chance. 
Maurice, the German Judas, has not played his last 
card yet. A month, a week, a day, may save the 
Cause. But time is everything." 

Frieke. Aye ! Heinric will stand firm. 

St. H. He must know this. Take it, Frieke, and 
if anything should happen unto me, give it to him. 

Frieke. What do you mean ? 

St. H. Frieke, we have met once more. 

Frieke. We ? Who ? 

St. H. Sigbert and I. 

Frieke. The man who wronged 

St. H. Whom I once loved. Yes. He has just 
left the room. 

Frieke. Otho, Prince of Halberstadt. [Pause.'] 
Heinric does not know? 

St. H. Not yet. 

Frieke. He'll not believe it. 

St. H. Yes, Frieke, for I go to tell the truth to 
him and to my people, from the Rath-haus steps. 

Frieke. Sister ! Sister ! Are you mad. The 
people will reject you, drive you forth to Otho anjfl 
to death 



SCENE I.] LOVE AND FAITH. 55 

SL H. So be it then. I bear a gospel greater 
than my life. 

Frieke. 'Twill be the death-knell of the Cause. 
Think of this message. \_Shozus letter?^ You must 
keep back the truth until we hear from Bradenberg 
again 

St. H. I have promised Otho I will lay my past 
before my people. 

Frieke. You cannot keep that promise. 

St. H. Frieke ! 

Frieke. \To lier very gently?^ I know what it will 
cost you, sister, and I do not ask it lightly. You 
could not tell a lie to save yourself, you must to 
save your people. You owe it to us, dear sister ; 
to us who have risked our fortunes and our lives — 
our everything to follow you. 

St. H. \_Touched, kissing her.'\ I know the sacri- 
fices you have made, the dangers you have n*n. 

Frieke. Because we love the trutli that is within 
you. 

St. H. And yet, would have me lie. Oh, Frieke, 
Frieke ! 

Frieke. Yes, I would have you lie. There are 
lies that are less deceptive than half-truths. And 
Otho knows it. Otho knows your people — the 
common, stupid, loving folk who worship you — will 
never understand that God alone is perfect. Otho 
knows that if you tell them of your past they will 
renounce you, and the Cause be lost. 

St. H. No, no ! I may be lost, but not the Cause. 
God's ensign only passes from my unworthy hands 
to Heinric's firmer grasp. He will still lead the 
people to a wider, freer future. 

Frieke. When his belief in you is gone? Never. 
He loves you, sister; kneeling before you as to 
one who comes from heaven not from earth. 

St. H. {Covering face?^ Don't, don't ! 

Freike. Think of the shock. The shock ! 



56 LOVE AND FAITH. [act ill. 

S(. H. His faith would still remain. 

Frieke. Not even that. It is his love for you 
that weaves the passion of his faith. Take that, and 
all his better self goes with it. 

St. H. If I thought that, the rack's worst agony 
should never make me speak. 

Frieke. Indeed, indeed, 'tis so ! My woman's 
instinct tells me it is so. Keep back the truth 
awhile — at least until we hear from Brandenberg 
again. Ah ! promise that. 

St. H. [ Walking to and fro.'] A lie ! a lie ! 

Frieke. Not for yourself, but others ; for the 
Cause. 

St. H. {Covering her ' ears.] The Cause ! It 
sounds like blasphemy. A lie, a lie ! 

Frieke. Aye, a lie. Think of this letter. A lie 
alone can give us time. Promise if Heinric 
falter» 

St. H. He will not. 

Frieke. But if he does 

St. H. I could not, could not — even for him. 

Frieke. Would you have him hark back to his 
old life: the life of gamblers and of harlots — the 
iife ji/^/^ called him from ? That is what it means, 
and the last state of that man 

St. H. No, no ! That shall not be, not though I 
steep myself in perjury and lies. 

Frieke. \_With cry.] You promise ? 

St. H. \Giving hand.] I promise — if he falters. 
[^Breaking away.] Ah ! but he will not. We 
wrong him, wrong him. He will stand firm. A 
month ago I was not sure ; to-day I know. I 
know he will be steadfast to the Faith. What e'er 
becomes of me, my captain, my .stout Joshua will 
lead you through the foe. Come, to the Rath-haus, 
for I have no fear. 

{^Exeunt as Scene changes. 



SCENE 2.] LOVE AND FAITH. 57 



Scene II. — A Public Square before the Rath-haus. 
Streets lead off L. U. E. atid R. B. C. The Rath- 
haus with steps and terrace. Full stage. Citizens 
in knots eagerly conversitig. 

First Cit. What's this to-do ! 

Second Cit. Why does not the Burgomaster come 
forth? 

First Cit. The Council sits as hard as an old hen 
upon her addled eggs. 

Third Cit. Where's the Burgomaster ? 

Fourth Cit. Aye, where's the Burgomaster ? 

Voices. " The Burgomaster! The Burgomaster ! " 

[ Uproar. Crowd gathers in front of Rath-haus and 
calls for Burgomaster. Enter Knipper- 
DOLLiNG, Stortebeker, Civic Officers and 
Torch-bearers from Rath-haus, also Coun- 
cillors. Confusion and uproar in Crowd. 

Tipstaff. Silence, silence for the Burgomaster ! 

Stort. [Aside.~\ I see Manteuffel in the crowd. 

Knip. \Aside7\ Devil-dog ! Devil-dog ! He's 
come to bait me. 

Stort. Keep cool ! keep cool ! 

Knip. Cool ! I'm cold — stone cold and clammy. 

Stort. Be a man, Burgomaster. 

Knip. Fear not. A little pushing, a little pres- 
ence. Oh, I can be a public man an I choose. A 
little " Thump, thump," and the crowd are with me. 

First Cit. What of Prince Otho ? 

Second Cit. What of St. Hulda? 

Mant. l^In crowd.'] Beware, brother, and dismiss 
the woman ere it is too late. 

Knip. Fellow citizens — [^Uproar.'] Good gentle 
citizens. A little order, a little patience. Oh, you 
can be the gentlemen an you choose [Uproar. 



58 LOVE AND FAITH. [act iii. 

Tipstaff. Silence! Silence! 

\Cries L. <?/ " The Prince. The Prince." Enter 
Otho, Officer and posse of Soldiers, L. 
Silence. 

Otho. [Aside.] She has not come. [Aloud.] What 
now, Sir Burgomaster! I find the city gates are 
shut upon my men. 

Knip. O noble Prince, it has ever been the custom 
here to close our gates at night-fall. 

Otho. In the King's name I demand a passage 
for my soldiers. 

Knip. Alas, high Prince, my orders are abortive. 
The garrison that hold the gates are Baron Hein- 
ric's men. 

Otho. Then in the King's name I call upon you to 
head the citizens and take possession of the city's 
entrances. [Sensation and -murmurs in crowd.] 
Citizens of Mindenburg : one word unto the public 
ear. King Charles has been advised that this, till 
now, most loyal city, is being swayed by Protestant 
seditions, the which his Majesty hath oft declared 
against, and now hath mind to treat more drastically; 
and I am come straight from my royal master to 
protect his city from its worser self — to quench the 
fatuous march-light which is leading you from solid 
order to^ wild and water-logged conclusion. In few, 
I come to demand the deliverance of the mock St. 
Hulda, apostate and rank heretic. 

Mant. Hear you that, brother? Give up this 
woman. 

[Murfnurs. Enter Heinric behind C^o^d, R. 

Otho. There spoke the voice of wisdom. Give 
her up. 

Hein. [At back.] Stay, citizens, and hold your 
judgment till you hear the other part. 

[Mounts steps before people. 



SCENE 2.] LOVE AND FAITH. 59 

Otho. Heinric, Lord of Mindenburg, I charge 
you by the warrant that I bear, I am in this purpose 
as the Emperor himself. 

Hein. Then I appeal to Caesar's self, not to his 
shadow. Withdraw your troops, and I will straight 
unto the King at Cologne, and surrender myself as 
hostage for Mindenburg's allegiance. 

OtJio. I cannot vary the terms of my strict 
presents. {^Hands warrant to Burgomaster.] 
Will you comply herewith, or must I force obedi- 
ence? 

Knip. O noble Prince! [To Heinric] O noble 
Lord ! And worthy law-abiding citizens. \To 
Prince.] O mighty Prince, cannot you give us 
pause, that on the morrow we may sit upon this 
matter? 

Otho. You will see the warrant directs the instant 
deliverance of its subjects. \_Aside?\ It was a trick 
to gain more time. She will not come. 

Knip. Ah, yes, indeed is't so? I cannot read the 
royal script. {Takes ^^r<;/^ /r^;« TORCH-BEARER — 
his hands tremble violently?^ In truth it is a very 
hiccup of a light to digest serious matters with. 
I see — 'tis set most clear and leaves no scope but 
for precipitate action. \To Heinric] Oh, noble 
Lord, see — 'tis written here — your duty is declared 
Should we not give her up? 

{Murmurs of approval. 

Hein. I will not give her up. 

Shouts. " No, no. We will not give St. Hulda 
up!" 

Knip. Citizens, citizens. Would you defy the 
King's High Officer? 

Hein. I will not give her up. 

Otho. Pause, Heinric, pause ! I am unused to 
pleading, and my pride was never over-pliant, but 
for our old friendship's sake, once more I pray you 
pause. 



6o LOVE AND FAITH. [act iii, 

Hein. It is too late, sir. That which divides us 
is greater than ourselves. 

Otho. The glamour of a woman. 

Hein. No, the future of our people. 

Otho. Then, for their sake consider. You lead 
them to a future pregnant with privation, pain, and 
death. And all for what ? 

Hein. For what is valueless to him who has it 
not — the Faith that is within us. 

Otho. \Laughsi^ Whence comes this inspiration ? 

Hein. From Heaven. 

Otho. Or from — Hymen ? You have asked St, 
Hulda to become your wife ? 

Hein. Not till our Faith is justified. 

Otho. I spoke but of the woman, not the Faith. 

Hein. The woman and the Faith are one. 

Otho. Ah ! Then if she were not all she seems to 
you, what of the Faith. 

Hein. We know that she is as the angels are. 

Otho. But if she were not. 

Hein. I say we know this woman — you do not. 

Otho. [Aside.'l Her courage fails her ; I must 
speak the word ! 

[A/oud]. But if I did? Not in her saintly guise, 
But as a woman who has drained the cup 
Of lawless pleasure and illicit love, 
Leaving her honour in the dregs — what then? 

Hein. I'll not blaspheme her spotless purity 
By such lewd fancy. 

Otho. No. Because you dare 

Not face the truth. 

Hein. [Hand to sword.'] Say you it is the truth ? 

Otho. Friend, friend, invoke no sword. We'll 
come to that 
Hereafter if need be. And when we draw 
Death holds the sheath. But let us know the 

ground 
On which friends fight. 



SCENE 2.] LOVE AND FAITH. 6i 

Hein. St. Hulda and the Faith ! 

OtJio. But if she be no saint ? 
Hein. I'll hear no more, 

Vile scoffer ! 

Enter Hulda and Frieke at back, unobserved. 

Otho. Nay, let the people hear, 
The people whom you beckon in her wake ! 
I blame no woman for that naughtiness 
Which most become her sex, but saints 

Hein. Silence ! 

I love her, and that love has drenched my heart 
Like blessed dewfall on the swooning rose ; 
I love her, and that love has called my soul 
From depths of degradation to the heights 
Where, star-crowned and supreme, the Spirit feels 
The pulse of God beat through the firmaments. 
I love her, and that love has filled my life 
With all the passion of a skylark's song, 
Lifting from earth to heaven's ecstasy! 

Otho. But if she be no saint? 

Heifi. I'll stand with you, 

Laugh in God's face and cry, " All Truth's a lie ! " 
If she, our white-robed saint, be counterfeit, 
Truth's but a shard, a shadow ; we the fools 
Of crass credulity and antic dreams ! 
If she be vile, all life's a hideous jest, 
And on the sepulchre of our dead hopes 
We'll dice for Jharlots with the bones of Faith, 
And hail Death's coming with a drunkard's glee ! 

Otho. You force me to speak. That woman was 
my mistress. 

Hein. {Drawing sword.l You lie ! 

Otho. [Suddenly seeing HuLDA on steps, C] At 
last! Behold. Let her deny ! 

Hein. {With cry ^ Hulda, deny. 

People. " Deny ! Deny ! " ' 



62 LOVE AND FAITH. [act iii. 

Otho. \_Grimly.'\ Deny ! 

Frieke. [ Up steps ^(? HULDA — aside^^ Sister, sister ! 
Deny ! 

St. H. [ With supreme effort.^ It is a lie ! 

Otho starts, then laughs. With a great cry Hein- 
Ric and the People cast themselves at Hulda's 
feet. She stands white and motionless on steps C. 



END OF ACT III. 



seENE I.] LOVE AND FAITH. 63 



ACT IV. 

Eight weeks elapsed. 

Scene. The Great Hall in Heinric's Castle, commanding 
the walls of Mindenburg. Arched entrance L. 
Tapestry walls with transparency, C. B. Turret win- 
dow, R. B. Fireplace, R. Armour, furniture, etc. 
'N. B. — This Act can be played in same scene as Act I, 
if necessary. Frieke discovered tenderly binding 
Max's head. 

Frieke. \Kissing him tenderly^ Art better now, 
dear man ? 

Max. Much ! {Rises?^ But you haven't got a 
bite of anything to give me, just to play with, eh? 

Frieke. Max, Max, we've not a morsel in the 
Castle. We ate the old Tom cat two days ago — 
and you are starving, Max, I know you are. I 
wish you could eat me. 

Max. {Kissing her.'] I don't think you'd agree 
with me — you never have for long, you know? 

Frieke. Dear Max, I'll never flout thee more. 

Max. Lord, yes, you will ! and it will do me 
good. 

Freike. {Nestling?^ Nay, if thou'lt take me I 
will prove a humble wife, an we escape from Otho 
and his men. But shall we, Max? Famine and 
fever stalk the streets. 

Max. Cheerily, sweetheart, cheerily ! We who 
stand round St. Hulda must have no doubts. 

Frieke. Ah, what a woman ! 

Max. Woman ! she's an angel ! And more than 
an angel, she's a general ! You should see her on 
the walls wearing her jerkin like a man, with a word 



64 LOVE AND FAITH. [act IV, 

here and a smile there, until the veriest craven feels 
himself a lion ! 

Frieke. And you should see her with her- armour 
off, soothing the sick and wounded with gentle 
touch and tender pity, bringing the balm of com- 
fort through the wards of pains ! 

Enter Heinric. 

Max. [^Uncovermg.~\ God save St. Hulda! 

Frieke. Amen, amen! 

Hem. \Coining down.'] Amen ! Max, I would 
speak with thee. 

Frieke. I'll to Sister Hulda, my lord. The 
children will be shortly here, the children she has 
fed each day since famine fell upon us, but we have 
nothing left to give them. 'Twill break Hulda's 
heart to hear them cry for food, and we have nought 
to offer. 

Hein. I know, I know ! The sufferings of others 
wring her more than her own pains. See what you 
can do, good Frieke, see what you can do. 

Frieke. I'll try, my lord, but food is scarce in 
Mindenburg. 

\^Exit Frieke, 

Hein. Max, you're an honest fellow. Through 
these eight long weeks of siege you've been my 
right hand man ; you have made soldiers of the 
citizens ; you have taught them obedience, endur- 
ance, courage, and I wish to take you by the hand 
and thank you for your service. 

Max. You make me a proud man, my lord, be- 
yond my merit. I only followed you, my lord, and 
it is an easy thing to follow where one has belief. 

Hein. \Shaking him by the hand.] You're a brave 
fellow, Max. We've done our best, and we are 
beaten. 

Max. Not yet, my lord, I hope. 



SCENE I.] LOVE AND FAITH. 65 

Hein. Yes, Max, our hour has come. One of 
my spies got through the enemy last night with 
this fell news; Maurice of Saxony himself is march- 
ing here with reinforcements for Otho's Spanish 
soldiery. 

Max. Maurice himself! 

Hein. Ay, Maurice the Renegade. Maurice, 
whom the Reformers once looked to as their 
saviour, — Maurice who betrayed the Cause, — is 
marching on us now. Our men are worn by 
famine, thinned by pestilence — Maurice must force 
the town by sheer weight of numbers. 

Max. We can but die, my lord, face foremost. 

Hein. Aye, but the women? 

Max. You mean the Spanish soldiers ? I never 
thought of that. And yet I should have done, for 
I have served with them, and seen such things as 
no man cares to speak on. My lord, there's one 
within these walls I love so well. I'd give my life 
to save her pain, but rather than see her fall into 
the hands of those black butchers, I'd take her life 
myself. 

Hein. I will prevent that fate. Our women 
shall not fall into their hands. {Trumpet off.'\ No 
word of this to anyone. That summons may be 
our last, if so, good friend, good-bye ! 

[ They shake hands in silence. 

Enter St. Hulda and Frieke. 

St. H. Friends, friends, the call ! 

Hein. One word, dear sister, let them ^o first ! 

Max. [Aside to Frieke.] Wear this dagger at 
thy garter, sweetheart. If the Spaniards storm the 
town it will save thy honour. 

Frieke. Fear not, dear Max, I understand. 

Max. {Kisses /ier.~\ God bless thee, and good- 
bye ! 



66 LOVE AND FAITH. [act iv. 

Frieke. May I walk a little way with thee, brave 
Max? 

^Exeunt Max and Frieke, 

Hein. S^Down with Jfulda.~\ I would not have 
thee to the walls to-day, dear sister. 

St. H. Why not ? 

Hem. I will lead the men myself. I wotdd have 
thee here to comfort the women and children. 

St. H. But why? 

Hein. Because thy general wishes it. And, sister, 
if — and it might happen now at any time — if the 
enemy should force the town, promise me thou wilt 
not pass into their hands alive. 

St. H. I cannot promise that. 

Hein. Ah, but thou must ! Thou does not know 
what these fierce brutes would do to thee. They'd 
mock thee, beat thee, strip thee: thou would-st be 
the very plaything of their passions and their lust I 
See here, sister. [^Shozus fuse in Jloor.'] I've had 
this laid down to the magazine. If the enemy reach 
yonder street, fire this {SJiows flint\ and circle all in 
instantaneous doom. 

St. H. No, Heinric, that I cannot do 

Hein. Hulda ! thou dost not fear to fend thine 
honour with thy life? Fore Heaven, I — I could do 
it for thee. 

St. H. That's not true courage, brother! He 
who gives us life is as the Captain setting of the 
night-watch ; we must not quit our post till we are 
called. 

Hein. Can Heaven wish to see thee tortured and 
defiled? 

St. H. If so, so be it ! If not the Captain will 
send round His last relief. \Cross to him, giving 
hands.'] Brother, brother ! doubt not His Mercy — 
nor trouble for my sake ! 



SCENE I.] LOVE AND FAITH. 6j 

Hein. {Clutching her hmids passionately^ Hulda ! 

\Cannon off, trumpets, drums, alarums, church bells 
ring. Enter Frieke and Children, who 
crozva round Hulda. 

Chil. Hulda, Hulda, we are afraid ! 

St. If. {SootJiing thevi]. Fear not, fear no,t, my 
little people. The thunder cannot hurt you here 

Hein. [Asitle.~\ If it is a sin to save her purity, 
mine be the sin. Frieke, a word. \They stand 
aside^ Thou art a fearless woman ? 

Freike. As women go, my lord. 

Hein. Fearing dishonour before death ? 

Frieke. My man hath left me — this. 

\_Shows dagger. 

Hein. You must save Hulda too. 

Frieke. How, my lord ? 

Hein. If Otho's men attain the street, light this, 
and blow the castle to the skies. 

Frieke. I will, my lord. 

Hein. I leaAje her honour in your charge. 

\He gives her his hand. Trumpets. 

Frieke. My lord, I'll not betray it, 

Hein. {Coining down.'] Aye, guard the little ones, 
and God guard thee ! 

St. H. I know that He will save us yet ! 

Hein. Thy faith is marvellous. 

St. H. Not more than thine in me. 

Hein. Good-bye ! 

St. H. Good-bye ! 

Hein. May I, sister ? It is the first, as it may be 
the last. {He lifts her face — he kisses her on the 
cheekT] Good-bye. [ Jb Frieke.] Remember! 

{Exit Heinric. 

Chil. Hulda, Hulda, we are hungry! 

St. H. {Caressing them.'] I know — I know. It 
will not be for long. The good God will discom- 



68 '"™ LOVE AND FAITH. [act iv. 

fort the wicked soldiers and drive them away, and 
then we shall all be happy evermore. 

Chil. And have good things to eat ? 

St. H. \With forced gaiety ^^ Aye — to be sure. 
Good milk to drink and meats to eat and bread and 
butter — aye, and maybe cakes. 

Chil. Will it be soon ? 

St, IT. Aye, soon, please God — quite soon. And 
now what shall we do to cheat dull time? Look 
you, a catch, a merry catch ! Who knows a merry 
catch .f* How goes it? \_Sings.'] 

I know a naughty maid, 

Who can she be, 
With hair unkempt as hay in cock. 
With shoon awry and dirty smock, 
With horrid holes in either sock. 

Thou, thou art she ! 

[Children Join in catch-song. Boom of cannon, 
bells, and blare of trumpets off. Enter Woman 
excitedly. 

Woman. Lost ! lost ! The city gates have been 
betrayed and through the roaring sluices the 
Spanish spears rush in. \J)ista7it noise of men.'] 
The enemy are on us, see ! \^To windowi] Round 
the further angle of the street the hordes of death 



appear 



Frieke. [At window.'] Look at the banners ! 
They are Maurice's men ! 

[Some of the childreji cry and hustle together. 

St. H. Children! children! [Sings in loud, firm, 
voice.] " I know a naughty maid " 

Woman. [At window.] Nearer! nearer! Horror! 
They wave their arms in fury, and a thousand hands 
are stretched in anger to the sky ! Sister, sister, 
they come for thee ! 

[Noise louder, and confused shouting and singing. 

St. H. [Singing.] " I know a naughty maid " 



SCENE I.] LOVE AND FAITH. 69 

Frieke. [Astc/e.] Fear not, they shall not take her ! 
[Frieke crosses to fuse with flint and tinder-box, 
kneels down and strikes flint. 

St. H. Frieke, what are you doing? 

Frieke. \Lighting fuse.'] Preparing a German 
greeting for our Spanish guests! 

Vl omaii. {Frantically?^ Curse 'em, curse 'em ! 
We'll die, but not surrender ! 

St. H. [flushing across to fuse.'] Frieke ! Frieke ! 

Frieke. [Dragging her from fuse.] Stand back ! 

St. H. [Stamping out fuse.] Woman, woman ! 
where is thy faith ? 

Frieke. I promised Heinric if the enemy 

St. H. [With a great cry?] The enemy! Not so, 
the Lord of Hosts is with us. Hark ! [Rushes to 
window and throzvs it open. Sunlight upon her.] 
'Tis Luther's hymn ! 

[^Above the shouts and confusion is clearly heard the 
triumphant hymn. Enter Heinric hastily. 

Hein. A miracle! A miracle! Hulda, thy faith 
is justified. Maurice of Saxony has turned once 
more and joined the cause of German Reformation ! 
King Charles the Catholic is in full flight from 
Innsbruck to the Alps ! Maurice's men are our 
defenders. The Spaniards, surprised and over- 
whelmed, lay down their arms ; the city gates gape 
wide again, and peace and plenty come singing 
down the streets I 

Chil. [Clapping harids.] St. Hulda promised we 
should soon have food. And now ! and now! 

Hein. Aye, St. Hulda knew. Take them, Frieke, 
take them ! Pledge my credit to the hilt, but see 
that they are fed — poor little lambs ! — see that they 
are fed. 

[Exit Frieke, followed by Children laughing, 
dancing, and clapping their hands. Hulda 
staggers, fainting.] 



70 LOVE AND FAITH. [act iv, 

Hein. {Supporting her7\ Hulda ! 

St. H. Air ! more air ! 

Hein. \Leading her to window?)^ Thy armour is 
sore heavy, thou canst put it off. Let me assist 
thee. 

St. H. Nay, I am better Thou art sure the news 
is true? 

Hein. Behold a copy of the King's own brief, 
granting Protesters fullest liberty. Mindenburg is 
free, and this thy victory ! 

{Places edict in her lap, and kisses her hand. 

.St. H. Nay, touch me not ! No — no ! Sit there, 
somewhat away from me, until my speech be done. 
If this indeed be victory, my sojourn here grows 
short. 

Hein. Hulda ! 

St. H. Nay, listen ! Turn your face towards the 
wall and listen ; for now the greater truth has won 
the day, the lesser truth must follow, as we have 
seen the moon rise on the setting sun I 

Hein. Nothing can mar thy triumph in this hour 
of thy supremacy ! 

St. H. {Mute gesture. Pause. Then in dull 
tones.'] You may remember, Heinric, — Oh, 'tis 
most difificult ! — you may remember how I told 
you once about a wicked woman ? 

Hein. Surely a tale of weakness rather than of 
wickedness, that to your innocence seemed very 
terrible. 

St. H. Aye so \ because I am not innocent ! 

Hein. Hulda ! 

St. H. Otho did not lie. I lied unto you alL 
This story is my history. 

[Heinric rises and faces her, speechless. He tries to 
speak, but cannot, and sink into chair again. 
She sits white and rigid. Pause. The chil- 
dren s merry laughter and joyous trebles heard 
off. 



SCENE I.] LOVE AND FAITH. 71 

Hein. [With effort.'] The children — they soon 
forget their pains ! [Pause.] It is a blessed thing 
to hear the children's laughter. 

St. H. \_Du//j/.] Yes, a blessed thing. 

Nein. [After pazise.] And the women — I pray 
they be relieved — they suffered much. 

St. If. Yea, the women always suffer. 

Ifein. [After pause.] They too will soon forget 
their travail, and the new life shall justify birth's 
pangs. 

St. H. Yea, the new life. 

Hein. [Rising^ Thou must put aside thine 
armour, and go to them. 

St. H. [Rising mechanically^ Yea, I must go to 
them. 

Hein. And I to my brave soldiers, or to such of 
them as live to wear their victory. After keen 
effort comes reaction's drouse as under-suck upon 
the breaking wave. I'm numb, frost-bitten, foolish. 
I'd fain say much, I'm confined to this: What you 
have told me can make no breach between us two — 
I ask you still to be my wife. 

St. H. Heinric! Heinric ! [Then flinging herself 
against the wall.] Oh, my God ! my God ! 

Hein. Hulda ! Hulda ! be calm ! I love you. 

St. H. Why don't you strike me to the ground ? 
Stamp on me, crush me, kill me ! Were I a man 
who had been thus deceived, I'd kill the woman 
who could dupe me so. 

Hein. Deceived, but never duped. 

St. H. I lied to you— I lied ! 

Hein. As we oft lie to children, teaching beliefs 
as stepping-stones to ampler inspiration, which 
detects amidst conflicting cries of human imperfec- 
tion the rolling anthem of God's great design. 

St. H. Oh ! oh ! I cannot bear it. Leave me I 
Leave me ! Cannot you see I am not strong 
enough to face my punishment ? 



72 LOVE AND FAITH. [act iv. 

Hein. I only know one thing, that I am of thy 
making. That from the moment I first heard thy 
voice, first read God's legend on thy moonlit brows, 
my old self died within me, and my new life began. 
Ask, am I better, am I worse? for evil or for good 
I am thy creature, and though thou be not perfect 
more than I, am I to judge thee or to weigh against 
the sin of one defeat the virtue of a thousand 
victories! Hulda, my speech comes back to mock 
its impotence, for I can say do more than that I 
love. And all the meaning of my life, with all its 
nobler instincts and diviner aims are summed in 
those two words, " I love." I love thee — be my 
wife? 

St. H. Thy wife ! Oh — no — no — no ! 

Hein. \Seizing her by wrist?^ Look me in the 
face and say thou dost not love me, and I'll go. 

St. H. {Breaking away.'] Will man's mind never 
read a woman's instinct ? It is because I love thee, 
Heinric, love thee so that it would be more natural 
for the young mother when she feels the nestle of 
the first born, at her side to strangle it with curses, 
than for me to taste love's sacrament, being a thing 
impure. 

Hein. Hulda! Hulda! give me hope ! 

St. H. Yea, I'll give thee hope, oh, dear one ! It 
lies among thy people. I came to fold thy sheep, 
but they are thine to tend. And some will stray, 
and thou must seek and save ; and some will throw 
themselves, and thou must set them on their feet 
again; and some will sicken and thou must heal; 
and all will look to thee, and thou must watch them 
all, when I am gone, for in their happiness thy 
comfort lies. 

Enter Otho unobserved. 

Hein. They cannot spare thee, and for me, I will 
not. Nay, though thou turn'st from me to-day and 



SCENE I.] LOVE AND FAITH. 73 

yet to-morrow and to-morrow's morrow, I'll follow 
after thee 

Otiio. [Coming dozvn.'] Not when you know ! 

[ With a cry St. Hulda shrinks back. Heinric 
instifictively folds her in his arms and faces the 
Prince. Keep picture. 

Hein. What do you here ? 

OtJio. I come to bid you bye with fair congratula- 
tions on your victory — yours and the saintly 
Hulda's. 

Hein. [To Hulda.] I'll hand thee into Fred- 
ereike's charge — this air's too foul for thy sweet 
soul to breathe. \Leads her up. 

St. H. {Pausing — aside7\ Heinric, thou wilt 
not 

Hein. Join thou the women. I will mind this 
man. \Bus.^ and exit HuLDA. Coming down.'] 
Well? 

Otho. V faith, all's well. We can speak freely 
now. 

Hein. Be brief ! 

Otho.. Maurice of Saxony has doubled on his 
tracks and left his followers at loss. 

Hein. I know ! 

Otho. The Emperor has fled, leaving the Protest- 
ants possessed of Germany. 

Hein. I know ! 

Otho. And Hulda, Saint of Mindenburg 

Hein. I know ! 

OtJio. And I am here to lay at. her new shrine as 
votive offering the public record of her past — and 
mine — in unregenerate days. 

Hein. You can tell me nothing that I do not 
know — and I have vowed two vows. 

Otho. More rash than Jeptha, for he vowed but 
one. 

Hein. But kept it. I have vowed, God willing, I 
will marry Hulda. 



74 LOVE AND F'AITH. [act iv. 

Otho. \Steps to him.'] Now that you know- 



Hein. {^Looking straight at him.] The man who 
wronged her? Yes! And I have vowed to kill 
him ! 

[The two men face each other, then Otho laughs. 

Otho. When? 

Hein. Now! 

Otho. Here? 

Hein. \_Pointing to the doori\ Not where she 



is- 



Otho. [With change of voice ?\ Heinric, Heinric ! 
it was I who taught thee thy first tierce. 

Hein. Which shall come home again. 

Otho. As you will, then — but I warn you 

Hein. Enough ! I know that God is with the 
right ! 

Otho. Your blood be upon your head. This is 
no work of mine. But lead, I'll follow. 

[Exeunt Heinric and Otho. 

Luther s hymn heard approaching. Enter Burgh- 
ers, Citizens, Women, and Children with 
flowers and wreaths, singing. Enter Knip- 
perdolling, Councillors, Tipstaff, etc. 
Hymn ceases. Enter Max and Frieke. 

Knip. Where is St. Hulda ? Let someone pub- 
lish that we wait on her to honour her! 

Tip. Summon St. Hulda ! 

Voices. "St. Hulda! St. Hulda! Victory! we 
are free ! " 

Knip. [C] Aye, free ! And I have crowned that 
freedom by committing to prison a contrary and 
contumacious Catholic — even my own dear brother, 
Manteuffel. [Murmurs of assent ?[ A little stern- 
ness, a little justice. Oh, I can be a Rhadamanthus 
an I choose — a little — [waves hand judicially], and 
the Reformation is complete ! But she, she comes, 



SCENE I.] LOVE AND FAITH. 75 

she comes ! Our virgin Saint of Mindenburg ! 
Hail ! Hail ! 

Enter St. Hulda, very pale. She has changed her armour 
for a simple robe of white. Burst of wild cheering 
and popular emotion. Folk crowd on her, laughing 
and weeping ; some kiss her hands a?id garments. A 
Woman crowns her with white roses, a Man thrusts a 
stalk of white lilies into her hand. St. Hulda is 
deeply moved. 

St. H. {Overcome^ My brethren, my dear 

brethren 

\_Pause, then more calmly^ It is a great and joyous 

thing to feel 
The glowing tide of your affection storm 
The channels of my heart, until the banks 
Nigh burst with plentitude. And though the neap 
Hereafter follow, on my soul is set 
The proud high-water mark of your regard. 
I am not worthy of this radiant crown, 
Nor of this lilied sceptre, but allow 
This moment's grace as token of your love. 

Before I go 

\Murmurs. 

Voice. " Nay — you have won the battle. 
The glory is with you " 

Voice. "You led us, Hulda ! 

We- followed you ! " 

St. H. Ye slept, I but aroused you. 

My feeble torch but lit your faggot's blaze, 
Which now doth burn so bravely that no hand 
Of mortal man can qnench its fiery beacon, 
Whose sparks, like constellations, shall illume 
Long after my poor light be paled aud past, 
Brief in its splendour as a falling star ! 
My task is finished. Let me therefore pass- 



\Tlie People /'r^.fj' on her with cries of " Never, 
never ! " " Abide with us always ! " 



'je LOVE AND FAITH. [ACT iv, 

St. H. Friends, friends, have mercy ! Give me 
room to breathe ! I am not over-strong. 

Voice. " Stay with us, stay ! " 

St. H. \_Pause.'] Yea — I will stay if you shall bid 
me stay — when you have heard me out. Give me 
some air — I pray you air 

Voices. " Saint Hulda! " " Sister Hulda ! " 

St. H. [Removing crown front her head?[ Sister 
in weakness, not a saint in strength. 
God's ways are wonderful, and we who hold 
Our little parts in Life's great Passion Play, 
Give colour to this character or that 
Writ down for us to act. We can but do 
Our best with our particular scenes, nor hope 
To understand the unity which weaves 
The infinite complexity of life 
Into a perfect plot. (That shall not be 
Until th' immortal Author of it all 
Concludes Creation and writes down " The End ! ") 
And so, perchance, a sinner may be set 
To speak sweet words of saintly utterance, 
And she may feel the beauty of those words 
The more that she herself is frail, — 
Aye, and convey their sense with subtler touch. 
Knowing both the good and ill. It may be so. 
Our human quilt is patchwork, black and white. 
But sown with threads of golden sympathy. 
Which shall outwear Life's pickings and Death's 

rents. 
And if it has been mine to holpen some. 
If from the Devil's dunghill I have snatched 
One single grain of lost humanity. 
To store it with the stars in Heaven's loft 
Of golden grainery, I am content. 
Dismiss me with some kindness as my wage. 
But deem me not a saint, for though my words 
Come winged from God, the lips that speak them 
bear 



SCENE I.] LOVE AND FAITH. ^^ 

The taint of our mortalit}^ and I — 
Am as my sister — fallen Magdalen. 

\_Moveinent in crowd. 
And all the Prince proclaimed me on the day 
Ye stood by me in loyalty and love 
I am, and worse, because I lied to you — — 

\_Fause. Dead silence. Men look at one another. 
Women tvhisper. BurG(;m aster anxiously 
scans the faces of his neighboitrs, thefi turns 
a?id goes. 
Tip. Leave for his Worship! let his Worship pass! 
\Exit Burgomaster. Others follow him rapidly^ 
others doubtfully. Hulda sta7ids white and 
motionless., with the crown at her feet and the 
lilies crushing in her hands. One of the chil- 
dren runs to kiss her ; its mother snatches it up 
hastily, harshly, and leaves. Exeunt omnes, 
except Frieke and Ma^. Frieke moves to St. 
Hulda. 
Max. [Aside to her.~] Whither goest thou ? 
Frieke. [Aside.'] To Sister Hulda. 
Max. [Catching her hand, aside.] Thou shalt not 
peril thy good name for her ! 

Frieke. [Aside.] Max, Max, she is our sister ! 
Max. She is lost ! 

Frieke. Who says 't ? She is a woman who has 
loved. 
And being such more near perchance to God 
Than some who pray, knowing not Charity. 

[Max drops her hand and exits. 
Frieke. [Goes gently to^T.Wxil.'DP^?}^ HuWa, Sister 
Hulda, let me be with thee. [Touches her. HULDA 
starts as from a dream, and tries to wave Jier off, almost 
fiercely ; tJien suddenly, zvith a sob, falls forzvard into 
Frieke 'S arms in a paroxysm of tear si] Poor 
quavering heart ! So — so — control thy pain. 
[HULDA suddenly stiffens in her arins.] Hulda ! 
what is it ? Blood! My God, she's dying ! 

[Places her on chair. 



78 LOVE AND FAITH. [act iv. 

SL If. [faintlj/.'] Heinric — go fetch me Heinric"! 

Frieke. And leave thee? 

St. H. Go — ^go, he must be nigh ! 

Frieke. I dare not leave— — - 

St. H. {Rising with supreme effort?)^ I bid you 
go ! Fear not, I zuill not die 
Till I have looked upon his face again ! 
Go, as you love me, go ! no words, but go ! 

{Pushes Frieke off. 
I must be calm and miser all my strength 
Until he comes. He will not turn from me. 
But take me to his heart and comfort me. 
And I shall feel his warmth, nor be ashamed 
Of love's farewell caress. How dark it grows ! 
And cold — so cold without him. 
{To Window7\ Heinric, come ! 
Heinric, I want you ! Fm dying, Heinric! 
Dear God, not yet — not yet — have mercy ! Heinric ! 

{Falls behind window curtain dead. Enter Heinric 
joyously. 

Hein. Hulda ! not here \ Frieke, where is thy 
mistress ? 
Both gone, and with no word or tryst for me. 

{Sees Hid da. 
What ! Hiding from me ! Nay, come forth, sweet- 
heart, 
There is no cause for fear ! Thy wrongs are righted, 
Death hath arrested thy sole enemy, 
And that foul laugh which mocked thy innocence 
Shall ring in hell alone ! Still mute ! she sleeps 

{Dratvs near. 
Bankrupt of strength she squandered on the weak, 
I will not break the seal of those sweet eyes. 
Twin wonder-worlds of mystery and hope. 
Sleep on, dear one, serene and satisfied, 
Let wings of angels winnow thy past cares 



SCENE I.] LOVE AND FAITH. 79 

Sifting the liusk of fleshy accident 
From the quick sea of thy sublimer self, 
Which shall regerm hereafter. Nay, I'll wake 
Thee now to gladness. \Gently. 

Hulda! Huldadear! \Louder. 

Hulda, awake ! It is thy Heinric calls. 

\^Takes her hand. Starts. Bus., with cry. 
Dead ! My God ! No, no, she does but swoon ! 
Dear Hulda, speak to me. Cold, cold and lifeless. 
Taken, and I am left ! Dead — and I live ! 
This is hell-woven mockery and spite ! 
Gone ! gone ! There is no justice on the earth. 
There is no pity in God's sky, the world 
But rocks at random through a howling void. 
And man, the ace of sensitive despair. 
Is shuttlecocked by cosmic cruelties. 
There is no hope, no help. I do deny 
The scope of heaven and the scope of hell. 
I'll beg dead Otho's laugh — curse God, and die ! 

\^Draws sword and is about to fall on it. Children s 
hymn outside. Twilight deepens. Through 
transparency at back is seen St. Hulda as she 
first appeared to Heinrich. 

St. H. Faith is the Pharos of our pilgrim race, 
Lost on the plains of darkness and dismay. 
Be yours that light. A pin-point in the dark. 
But steadfast as a star that shall not set, 
Till o'er the beetling hill-tops which have reared 
Fixed limitations to man's finite reach. 
The sluice of dawn be lifted and the flood 
Of God's illumination palpitate 
Above us, in us, of us, and we know ! 
Dear God, I pray Thee, give thy people Faith ! 

\yisio7i fades. Moonlight upon Heinric. The 
sword has falleti from his hand, and a great 
change has come over his face. He tvalks very 
slowly across to the side of the dead woman 
and reverently takes her hand. 



8o LOVE AND FAITH. [act iv. 

Hein. I hear thee, Spirit, call across the gulf. 

\}Vith face uplifted in the moonlight still grasping 
the dead one" s hand. 
Life is thy echo. Hulda, I believe ! 

\^Hymn of the Children. 



SLOW CURTAIN. 



THE SIN OF ST. HULDA 



OR 



LOVE AND FAITH 



AN ORIGINAL PLAY IN FOUR ACTS 



BY 

G. STUART OGILVIE 



"And faith, 
Creating what it feigned." 

— Shelley. 



RAHWAY, N. J. 

THE MERSHON CO. 
1896 









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